
ClassJlxl-3. 
fmiyriglifF IHQ5 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSnV 




THE STARS AND BARS 

PAGE 50 

Wk i<oved its hoIvY mission, 
Every hope that it inspired, 

And we honor every martyr 
Who beneath its foi.ds expired. 



A 



GALAXY OF SOOTHERN HEROES 
AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 



ORION T. DOZIER, M. D. 



A COMPILATION OF MANY HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED 

EFFUSIONS OF THE AUTHOR, AND A NUMBER 

OF OTHERS WHICH HAVE APPEARED IN 

SUNDRY PERIODICALS BUT LARGELY A 

REPRINT OF THOSE APPEARING 

IN THE FIRST AND SECOND 

EDITIONS OF 

"FOIBLES OF FANCY AND RHYMES OF THE TIMES" 

ISSUED BY THE WRITER IN THE YEAR 1894 



BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA, 
1905 ', ' 



r^ 






\'\ 



LIBRARY of 00?JSS£SSJ 
Two Ccpies ii«:e)ved j 

0£C ly 1^04 
? -so I 




Entered according' to Act of Congress, in the year 
Nineteen hundred and five. 



ORION T. DOZIER, 

At the office of the Librarian at Washing-ton, D. C. 



1905 : 

PRE8S»OlJ DISPATCH PRINTING COMPANY, 
• » ■ 

, • • • BIRMINGHAM, ALA. 



PREFACE. 



WHEN ten years ago I yielded to the importuningfs of 
my children and some of my personal friends to pub- 
lish a collection of my rhymes, it was with no expec- 
tation or desire to attract any great interest of the public to 
myself or to my efforts in versification, for I have never 
aspired to literary distinction, nor to poetic notoriety. 
Whatever attempts I have made in this line have been, 
for the most part, to while away some leisure moments, or 
to comply with some friendly request ; or else to eulogize 
our Confederate heroes, whose unequaled glory has always 
been to me a theme of inspiration, and has impelled me to 
attempt in poetic lines to give vent to those sentiments and 
emotions which, welling up in my heart, seemed too sacred 
for common prose to express. And it is more to the worthi- 
ness of that theme in this particular than to any merit of 
my verses that I ascribe the quick disposal of the first and 
second editions of my unpretentious volume, and my chief 
incentive now in presenting this later compilation of my 
effusions is but a desire to gratify the oft repeated requests 
of many of my friends and old comrades of the Confederacy. 
Neither claiming nor asking any credit for my feeble 
efforts in these pages, I only consent to put them forth for 
the reasons just stated, and to gratify my own desire that it 
be accepted and regarded by all as my humble tribute to the 
sacred memory of Southern heroes who contended so val- 
iantly, but in vain, for the upholding of the Cause so just, 
but so unfortunate in its lamentable fall, and for whom my 
humble muse has so often attempted to soar in songs of 
praise. 

ORION T. DOZIER. 



DEDICATION. 



nrO THE '•United Sons" and "United Daughters of the 
^ Confederacy," scions of the most noble, chivalrous, 
brave, and heroic exemplars of soldierly and loyal patriot- 
ism — the most faithful adherents to their God-given 
instincts of racial superiority, and fidelity to their Cauca- 
sian blood — scions of the Statesmen, Heroes, and Soldiers 
of the South, upon whom must devolve the sacred duty to 
themselves, their progenitors, their country, and their God, 
of defending the facts, shielding the justness, and of com- 
bating the falsehoods and calumnies concerning that Cause 
which their noble sires so valiantly struggled to defend, or 
died to maintain : 

I dedicate this little volume, trusting only that my senti- 
ments in verse pertaining to our Sunny South and Southern 
Dead, though but feebly expressed, may help to inspire 
them with continued courage to proclaim to the world that 
their fathers' cause is not dead, that only the dust of its 
defenders is confined to the tomb, that the spirit of freedom, 
and of justice, still survives in the hearts of their descend- 
ants, and like "Truth, crushed to earth, will rise again," 

THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

A Galaxy of Southern Heroes 1 

vFor Freedom Float the Flag-s I I^ove 17 

^I Think I Thunk a Lie 25 

V A Sig^h for the Sea 30 

Don 't Forget Your Poor Old Mother 32 

Truthful Boler's Narrow Escape 34 

I Do Not Know 37 

V A Dream-City Dream 39 

•sUncle Mose on the Prodigal's Return 42 

-The Stars and Bars 49 

-Be Careful How You Tread 51 

--Infelice 52 

'"The Vale of lyosahatchie 53 

■^L/ines for Jefferson Davis's Anniversary 54 

"^Sermon by Uncle Mose, No. 1 56 

-A Rebel's Reverie 59 

-My Mother's Heart 61 

^To Minnie ! 63 

"An Evening Reverie 65 

"^A Wish 68 

•^Alabama 69 

-^Georgia 72 

^Speech of Uncle Mose 74 

^The Death of William McKinley 76 

-Faith 78 

-SDon 't It Sorter I^ook that Way ? 79 

Time 82 

'^he Death of Jefferson Davis 83 

"Shall I Forget ? 84 

^The Evening Prayer , 86 

^The Flag and Harp of Krin 87 

-The Ballot ,.... 90 



Pagb 

The Stars and Stripes 92 

Shame, O My Country, Shame 95 

Could I Forget ? 98 

Rizpah 99 

Uncle Mose on Independence Day 102 

Some Day 106 

Courag-e and Ambition 108 

You Are My Sweetheart Yet Ill 

Cupid's Auction 112 

Take Back the Lie 115 

Man Was Made for Woe 117 

Sermon by Uncle Mose, No. 2 119 

The Rationale of Sin 121 

Policy 125 

Shams and Shacks 127 

Coosa River 129 

A Spring Cant-Oh 133 

Cleopatra 136 

The Death of Cheatham 'l40 

Lines Sent With a Boquet 142 

Gordon 143 

Pepper Sauce 145 

The Army of Temperance 147 

Oh, Blessed be the Land 150 

To-Morrow 154 

A Hunter's Wish 156 

Not for Bread Alone 158 

Jefferson Davis 161 

There is no God 162 

Waiting and Dreaming 163 

I 'm in Love With Two Girls 165 

In Duteous Love We Come Again 167 

Song by Uncle Mose 170 

The Exile's Wish 173 

Woman and the Snake 174 

Natalitia 176 

A Plea for Unity 178 

Our Soldiers' Graves 180 



Page 

"A Ivover's Pique 181 

Dying- Abelard 183 

The Dude 185 

Brave Nickell of Kentuckj' 187 

Adieu to *' Ninety-Four " 189 

The Girls of Silver Creek 191 

We Cotne Once More 194 

A Woman of the Town 195 

Waiting- and Ivonging 197 

Give Me for a Friend 198 

Ivines for Thanksg-iving- Day ^... 200 

A Phillipic on E^xemption Laws 201 

The Wreck 203 

Good-Bye 205 

Our Nation's Shame 207 

My Friend 210 

The Right 212 

Woman 214 

The Soldier's Grave 218 

An Orphan's Story 219 

Our Confederate Dead 224 

The Unfortunate's Plea 229 

The Crank 232 

Our Sunny I^and and Southern Dead 234 

Till I Come Back Again 238 

V Slanderers of Gordon 240 

Waiting at the River 243 

" Our Order Here " 244 

Mourn, Georgia, Mourn 246 

My LfOsahatchie Home 248 

In Paradise 249 

Memorial Day Invocation 252 

Six and Thirty Years Ago 253 

Welcome Song , ... 256 

A Dream that Was Not All a Dream 258 

Blithesome I^ittle lyibby 260 

Forget Me Not 261 

A Fragment 261 



Pagb 

Club Song No. 1 262 

Club Song- No. 2 263 

Club Song No. 3 264 

Club Song No. 4 265 

Retrospection 266 

To I^izzie 273 

Kickers 274 

Hail St. Patrick's Day 276 

No Compromise for Me 277 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle 279 

The Death of Admiral Semmes , 280 

The Gallant Immunes 281 

The Guitar 282 

A Plea to Mayor L<ane 284 

Ivife 285 

South Rome 286 

Jack Frost 287 

lyove 287 

My Life is Like a Ship at Sea 288 

Good-Bye Song to F. L. S 289 

'Tis Then I Think of You 290 

Lines to J. L. T 291 

The Murdered Wife 292 

A Horrid Dream 294 

Booming Birmingham 296 

The Yankees Are Coming.. 298 

Lines Written on the Fly-Leaf of a Book 299 

My Native Land 300 

Drifting Away 303 



I. 

Once more the genial Southern sun 

Has called the roses into bloom, 
Once more the fragrant jessamine 

Lades all the air with sweet perfume ; 
Once more the little mating birds 

In every bush and tree are seen, 
Once more the earth her carpet spreads 

Of softest velvet-grassy green. 

II. 

Once more the dove of peace is heard 

In every valley, glen and cove ; 
Once more I come with rapturous heart 

To greet the comrades that I love ; 
And freed from hate and prejudice, 

All bitter memories laid aside. 
My muse but wakes to sing the praise 

Of those who for my country died. 

III. 
And anon, here and there to lay 

A chaplet on some worthy brow 
Of glorious hero — yet alive — 

And, as I place it, humbly bow, 
As well I should, with reverence due ; 

For language is too weak to prove 
How deep, how strong the wond'rous depths 

Of my unfathomed founts of love. 



A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

IV. 

But would to God my struggling muse 

Could break the bonds that bind my soul, 
And let my wild, impassioned thoughts 

Like ocean's stormy billows roll. 
While I so vainly now attempt 

To sing in lofty peans grand 
That meed of praise to patriots due — 

The heroes of my native land. 

V. 

With Heaven's face for music scroll 

And realms of space for octave bars. 
My clefs should be the sun and moon. 

My music notes the blazing stars. 
And oh ! I 'd sing with lofty strain 

And sweep the gamut of the skies, 
'Till every sleeping patriot's soul 

Should wake and from his grave arise ! 

VI. 

But oh! how feeble, weak am I, 

Poor, humble creature of the sod. 
Who deigns to touch a theme too grand 

For any being but that God 
Who rules the earth and realms above. 

Who speaks, and suns and worlds obey : 
He, only He, the living God 

Their meed of praise can ever pay. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 

VII. 
What tho' I had the cyclone's force, 

The flaming lightning for my tongue, 
A brain as broad as universe, 

My voice to tones of thunder strung, 
I still must fall unmeasured short 

In praise of those I fain would name. 
For God but made such God-like men 

To point the source from whence they came. 

VIII. 

How many names — bright, glorious gems — 

In Southern galaxy are set. 
To blaze like suns forever bright 

In fame's eternal coronet. 
Behold you, first, our Washington, 

Whose hands the stars and stripes unfurled, 
A Christian soldier, patriot true, 

The foremost rebel of the world. 

IX. 

Then see yon brilliant, fiery star, 

Proud Robert Toombs — majestic man. 
With wild, tempestuous, flaming soul, 

Too great for human words to span, 
From out whose rugged, heaving breast. 

In raging, seething tempests, rolled 
Consuming flames of eloquence — 

Mount JEtnsiy he, of human mold. 



A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

X. 

And could I paint with master hand 

The great Orion of the sky, 
With starry belt and lifted club, 

With daring mien to do or die, 
What would I do but hold to view 

The chief of that heroic clan 
Who San Jacinto's battle won. 

And name Sam Houston as the man. 

XI. 

But countless as the countless stars 

That in the dome of heaven shine, 
Each name as bright as face of Mars, 

Made glorious by their deeds sublime, 
And bright' ning with the^passing years 

Is that great constellation grand 
Who followed where our Davis led — 

The heroes of our Southern land. 

XII. 

No low'ring cloud of dark defeat 

Can dim or shut their light from view. 
But high above the horizon, 

Where God to justice gives its due. 
They shine within a firmament 

As fixed as that of heaven's own, 
And shed a glory on the world. 

The brightest earth has ever known. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 

XIII. 

Go look upon Manassas' plains, 

Where Bull Run ever onward flows, 
No monument is needed there 

Our^soldier's valor to disclose ; 
Eternal as that flowing stream 

Will rest the fame of him who fell. 
Brave, gallant Bartow leading on, 

While earth first shook with rebel yell. 

XIV. 

And when will history cease to tell 

Of Shiloh's dark and bloody ground ? 
Not whilst the stars in heaven shine 

And suns shall rise and worlds go round, 
For every patriot of the earth 

Who lights his soul with hopes of fame 
Will think of Shiloh and with pride 

Will mention Sidney Johnston's name. 

XV. 

Then turn your gaze on Kenesaw, 

With rugged domes uplifted high, 
See there that altar built by God 

As fitting place for him to die 
Who cast aside his priestly robes 

For sword and belt and suit of gray — 
Brave, glorious Polk, the soldier-priest. 

Whose name shall live through endless day. 



A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 
XVI. 

Now fain would I if I but could 

Snatch from yon sunset's oriflame 
Its golden glories to illume 

My trembling lips that breathe the name 
Of him who died on gallows tree : 

Sam Davis, glorious martyred youth 
Who spurned the proffered bribe of life 

To die for country and for truth. 

XVII. 

And could my muse on soaring wing 

Mount up to yon celestial height 
Of star bespangled heavenly dome 

And pluck from out the Crown of Night 
Its brightest gems and diadems 

And with God's aid transmute each flame 
To thoughts that blaze and words that burn 

r d weave a wreath and put to shame 

XVIII. 

The grandest eulogy of praise 

That poet's pen or mortal's tongue 
To woman fair has ever paid, 

And every thought with jewels hung 
Should be a royal, glittering gem 

Of radiance bright and beauty rare 
To crown the patriotic brow 

Of our Southern women fair. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 

XIX. 
But not for me their praise to sing, 

Tho' Heaven I know, however sweet, 
Without their every presence there 

Must in its bliss be incomplete; 
Then let some nobler tongue than mine 

The glorious, loving task essay ; 
r 11 simply pray, God bless them all ! 

And sing of those who wore the gray. 

XX. 

For like the herald of the morn 

That paints the Oriental skies, 
With amber rays and gorgeous hues 

And heaven's own intermingling dyes. 
So but the thought of those who died 

For that Lost Cause, so just and right, 
Awakes my soul with glowing love 

And heavenly inspirations bright. 

XXI 

Then give to me, O God, I crave, 

The power that never yet expressed 
Those thoughts that well within my soul 

And surge within my heaving breast. 
That I may reach a glorious height 

In epic strain and words sublime 
To weave an amaranthine wreath 

As fadeless as eternal time 



A GALAXY OF SOUTHKRN HEROKS 

XXII. 

To lay upon the hallowed shrine 

Of those for whom we mourn to-day, 
The noblest of heroic braves 

That ever went to battle fray 
And shed their blood on freedom's field, 

Disdaining life and glad to die 
Rather than their rights to yield, 

And now at home with God on high. 

XXIII. 

What tho' no stone shall mark their graves, 

Nor sentry guard their place of rest, 
They sleep within their humble graves, 

Serenely sweet with glory blessed ; 
Whilst on each mountain, vale and plain 

Where raged the storm of battle's flame 
They' ve left an everlasting print 

That marks them with their deathless fame. 

XXIV. 

Go stand upon the Cumberland, 

Go view the heights of Tennessee, 
Go climb to Lookout's lofty point 

And gaze as far as eye can see ; 
On every crag and every plain, 

Marked by the storm of battle blast. 
The name of Bragg is over all, 

To linger there while time shall last. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 

XXV. 

And hear you there the distant boom 

And feel you there the vibrant jar 
Of quaking earth beneath the roar 

Of thunder- crashing guns of war, 
Let loose by that young demigod — 

That re-incarnate soul of Jove, 
Born but to reign 'mid battle storm, 

The kingly Pelham, gods might love. 

XXVI. 

And lo ! above each mountain pass, 

Each hill and vale, each cove and glen, 
A glorious halo lingers yet, 

Where, meteor-like, that prince of men, 
In brilliant speed and splendor swept 

Athwart the flames on battle crest — 
Pat Cleburne with his flashing blade. 

The blazing comet of the West. 

XXVII. 

Then look on yon great ocean wide, 

Extending far as billows sweep. 
Cut by the Alabama's keel — 

See there a name engraven deep. 
Eternal and as lasting there 

-\s Neptune's star in yonder sky — 
Brave Admiral Semmes, a hero grand, 

Whose name and fame can never die. 



10 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

XXVIII. 

And yet, oh yet, with rapturous eyes 

To Cuban Isle but turn your gaze. 
See where oppression long has reigned 

A rising star, destined to blaze 
Eternal on Old Glory, dear. 

Joe Wheeler, great in peace and war, 
Has plucked from out the Antilles 

For freedom's flag another star. 

XXIX. 

And when storm- rocked Atlanta shook 

And writhed beneath the shrieking shell, 
When tempests wild around her raged. 

And leaden hail in fury fell, 
When lightning flashed and thunders rolled 

And flowed her streets with crimson flood. 
Who then stood there — bright star of hope — 

But brave, defiant Ajax-Hood ? 

XXX. 

And o'er yon Old Dominion State, 

Star gemmed, her crown with glory shines, 
With Southern pride I here avow 

That nowhere on this earth's confines 
Can there be found another land 

Which can so many heroes claim, 
And bright amid her brightest stars 

Shines glorious Stonewall Jackson's name. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 11 

XXXI. 

And glittering like a royal gem 

Above my own fair Georgia high, 
I see another brilliant star, 

As bright as ever decked the sky, 
Intrepid, brilliant Gordon, brave. 

The patriot, statesman, warrior grand. 
Of Southern manhood, brightest type. 

An honor to his native land. 

XXXII. 

Nor less resplendent is the light 

Of him, old South Carolina's star. 
Whose fiery soul was made by God 

To blaze amid the storms of war; 
And high on fame's eternal height. 

With all the glorious and sublime, 
Wade Hampton's name, in glory set, 

Will shine while roll the wheels of time. 

XXXIII. 

Now see yon grand, majestic stream, 

The great mid-continental sea. 
Whose course no human force can check. 

With currents deep yet flowing free. 
Unswerving in its onward sweep. 

Proud Mississippi, king of streams, 
See, and behold while gazing there 

A fitting type to me it seems 



12 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN H^ROKS 

XXXIV. 

Of him whose grand and kingly soul — 

Too strong for tyrant bonds to quell, 
Too deep for prejudice to mar, 

Too broad to curb by prison cell — 
Proud, God-like man, I breath his name 

With reverence and with deathless love — 
Jeff Davis, brightest star of fame, 

May heaven rest his soul above. 

XXXV. 

- But where, oh ! where, my wavering muse, 

Where wilt thou lead me in thy flight 
To find a type or simile 

Of him, the grandest, noblest knight 
That ever sword from scabbard drew? 

Not in the land Columbus gave 
Canst thou a likeness for him find ; 

Then seek beyond old ocean's wave 

XXXVI. 

Where God His grandest works designed; 

Go view the Alps and Pyrenees, 
Then onward to the Himalays, 

Where great Mount Everest, rising, sees 
All other mountains far below, 

His own grand form enrobed with cloud. 
His royal head God crowned with snow — 

Yes, go and view this mountain proud — 



AND OTHBR POKMS. 13 

XXXVII. 

This great, majestic, towering king — 

The grandest, highest of the world — 
God's monument of strength and power, 

Defying every storm that's hurled. 
All lightning blows from rival foes ; 

Yes, go and you this mountain see, 
Then tell me if thou yet hast found 

A prototype of Robert Lee! 

XXXVIII. 

Ah, no ! ah, no ! my faithful muse. 

Thou further yet must wing thy flight. 
Go mount yon Heaven's vaulted dome. 

Explore the '* azure seas of night " ; 
Go poise amid the glittering throng 

Of starry pageants in the sky. 
And measure thou great Alcyone, 

The central sun of worlds on high, 

XXXIX. 

'Round whom all suns and worlds revolve; 

The first, the greatest and the best 
Of all the shining heavenly spheres — 

And, poising there, thy wings may rest ; 
For in that far celestial zone. 

There 'mid the circling pleiades see 
That king of worlds, imperial orb, 

God's prototype of Robert Lee. 



14 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

XL. 

And now, oh ! now, my halting muse, 

While poising 'mid celestial heights 
Of blazing suns and mighty worlds, 

Of shining moons and satellites, 
I bid thee, if thou canst, to pluck 

From orbs on high, celestial fire 
And fling it down into my soul. 

That it may warm me and inspire 

XLI. 

My soul to higher, loftier strain 

Than ever bard hath dared to sing. 
For meed of praise to privates due 

Should make the very welkin ring 
And call angelic convoys down 

From Heaven's bright, supernal sphere, 
To catch the strain and tune their harps 

To notes that they would gladly hear. 

XLII. 
What tho' no circumstance or pomp 

Hath written down each separate name — 
What tho' no granite column tells 

The individual private's fame — 
What tho' on earth there 's no reward 

For all their suffering, toil and strife — 
Their names, thank God, in realms on high 

Are written in the "Book of Life." 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 15 

XLIII. 
Yes, tho' unmarked and hardly known, 

Almost obscure and hid from view, 
Theirs is a glory, none the less, 

As bright as ever Heaven knew. 
Yea, like the rolling, shining orbs 

That glow in yonder '' Milky Way," 
Tho' only faint and dimly seen, 

They blaze as does yon god of day. 

XLIV. 

For never since the morning stars 

Together sang with joyful song 
O'er new-born earth, by God-head sent 

To join the grand, triumphal throng 
Of suns and worlds that onward sweep 

Around His great, majestic throne, 
Was ever truer, nobler men 

Than Southern private soldiers known. 

XLV. 

Not even that celestial host 

Who drove, with wrathful thunders dire, 
The traitor Satan and his horde 

From Heaven's courts to pits of fire. 
Were more unselfish, brave and true 

Than was that grand, heroic band 
Who fought beneath the ** Stars and Bars" 

For God, for home, and native land. 



16 



A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 



XLVI. 

And when old earth's last round is run, 

And God commands her march to halt, 
When Gabriel, adjutant on high, 

The roll shall read from yonder vault. 
Where suns and worlds, in ranks aligned, 

Shall stand to hear God's orders read. 
May crowns the brightest God can give 

Be there for every private's head. 




AND OTHKR POKMS. 17 

FOR FREEDOM FLOAT THE FLAGS 
i LOVE. 

Written for and read on tlie occasion of the Robert Emmett Anni- 
versary Celebration at the Jefferson Theatre, Birmingham, Ala., March 
4, 19C2, tinder the auspices of the Gaelic Iviterary Club. 

I love the man who loves his God^ 

His country and his fellow-man, 
No matter what his state or birth, 

No matter what his creed or clan ; 
And in my very inmost heart, 

In spite of all that fates decree, 
I love him ever more and more, 

The more he loves his liberty. 

I love the flags, the fallen flags, 

Of every land of all the world 
By men upreared in freedom's cause, 

But which oppression's hands have furled. 
Their memory, like a sweet incense, 

A fragrance sheds, all hearts to thrill. 
And keeps aglow the lingering spark 

Of liberty remaining still. 

And by my faith in living God, 

I still maintain that free consent 
Of subjects is the only grant 

Entailing right of Government. 
That conquest only paves the way 

For brigands and despotic might. 
Which in the sight of Holy God 

Was never, nor can e'er be right. 



18 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHEJRN HKROKS 

I love the glorious stars and stripes, 

My great fore-father's flag and mine ; 
It gives me joy to see it wave 

Where'er it floats o'er Freedom's shrine, 
But if profaned by traitor hands, 

To subjugate on foreign shore 
A nation struggling to be free. 

If I were there, — 'twere mine no more. 

Nor would I follow in its wake, 

Nor treat with those who thus offend, 
For all who dare that flag pervert. 

Deserve the death which has no end. 
And rather than that I should aid 

In such unjust, unholy shame, 
I 'd suffer this warm heart of mine 

Torn from my breast and cast in flame. 

But if there be on this wide earth 

A people bowed by galling yoke 
Of tyrant, Emperor, King, or Czar, 

Who would be free, and should invoke 
"Old Glory's" shielding strength and might. 

Before my God I 'd bid it fly 
And with it there myself would go. 

To make them free, or 'neath it die. 

I love the flag, the honored flag. 
Now drooping o'er the dying Boer, 

'Tis tattered, drooping, sinking low; 
Perhaps to float on earth no more. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 19 

But braver deeds in freedom's cause 
Were never done by sons of Mars, 

Than those beneath Paul Kruger's flag, 
Old Erin's and the Stars and Bars. 

And well may England stand aghast 

While she reviews the awful cost, 
And contemplates the countless graves 

Filled with the legions she has lost 
In trampling down that honored flag, 

Since well she knows not all her dead 
Were stricken down by native Boers, 

For thousands died from Irish lead. 

Nor will the Irish e'er forget 

To right the wrongs of England's might, 
Nor ever shirk or slight a chance 

To show her how they love to fight 
*Neath any flag in freedom's cause. 

Her mean, rapacious course to check. 
While she retains her despot heel 

Upon their prostrate country's neck. 

Nor love I less old Erin's flag. 

Kept sacred thro' the countless years 
Unspotted by a single stain, 

Save by a loving people's lears. 
I love it for its sacred cause, 

A cause forever dear to me, — 
The right ordained of God to man, — 

The right inherent to be free. 



20 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

Its hue, the shamrock's living green, 

Whose roots lie deep in mother sod, 
And like that plant, tho' crushed and torn, 

That flag though under foot be trod 
Survives in spite of time and fate. 

And like the sun in yonder sky 
Comes forth renewed at every turn, 

By God ordained to never die. 

Born in the love of liberty, 

By faith enshrined in every heart 
That beats in breast of patriot 

Disdainful of the tyrant's art ; 
That flag shall yet triumphant wave 

Above the land that gave it birth. 
And kissed by every ocean breeze, 

Be hailed in every port on earth. 

For while the cycling years of time 

Roll onward in resistless sweep. 
Old Erin's sons throughout thetworld 

Next to their hearts that flag will keep, 
And longingly abide the day 

When they shall bear it back afar 
To that green Isle from whence exiled 

To blaze once more 'mid storms of war. 

Even now in my prophetic eye 

A vision grand sweeps on my view, 

I see a thousand mustering clans 

With dauntless leaders brave and true. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 21 

Each panoplied and armed for war, 
The green flag o'er them floating high, 

An army grand, a million strong, 
Resolved to conquer or to die. 

I also see a mighty fleet 

Of war-ships bounding through the spray, 
With every deck for action cleared, 

As now they enter Dublin Bay. 
And then I hear a mighty shout, 

A shout that seems the earth to shake. 
Wild cheers of joy, so long and loud 

Enough almost the dead to wake. 

A stillness now comes over all, 

A stillness that precedes the storm, 
I see the legions grim and stern 

Now lining up in battle form. 
Ten thousand cannon frowning grim 

To muzzle filled with siiot and shell, 
Mute war-dogs, waiting but the word 

To sound oppression's final knell. 

Far to the right and to the left 

Come platoons filing on platoons. 
Brave mounted knights in armor clad. 

An army grand of brave dragoons. 
White foam-flecked steeds with couriers bold 

Across the field are flying fast, 
I hear afar the drum's deep roll ; 

Earth soon shall quake 'neath battle blast. 



22 A GALAXY OF SOUTHKRN HKROKS 

I turn my gaze and distant see 

The British legion's flag on high. 
I hear the signal bugle's call, 

The great conflict is drawing nigh. 
Brave leaders quick their sabers flash ; 

Like thunder sounds the signal gun, 
Earth quivers 'neath the awful crash, 

No quarter now 'till freedom's won. . 

A hundred thousand muskets blaze, 

Ten thousand cannon hurl their shell, 
Shots, shrapnel, grape and cannister. 

Which hurtling shriek like fiends of hell. 
Exploding bombs like thunder crash. 

And rend the air with flaming breath. 
Whilst over all a sulphurous pall 

Now spreads a canopy of death. 

Through which I see the dragoons charge, 

Their sabers flashing in the light 
Like lightning tongues in frenzied freak 

When storm gods ride the sea at night; 
I see them reach the flaming crest. 

Lean forward in their righteous wrath. 
Each blade descends and foes succumb 

Like brittle reeds in cyclone's path. 

More sombre grows the sulphurous cloud. 
More ominous seems the awful din. 

Yet now and then I catch the sound 
Of leaders cheering on their men, 



AND OTHKR POEMS. 23 

And bright o'er all like meteors flash 
That rives the darkness of the sky, 

I see old Erin's bright green flag 
Still triumphant floating high. 

Though fierce indeed the conflict's been, 

Thank God for all, when day is done 
The British flag lies in the dust — 

Old Erin's flag the fight has won ! 
No more St. George's cross shall wave 

O'er Ireland redeemed and free, 
The harp and shamrock takes its place. 

Bright emblems of her liberty. 

Start not nor deem my vision wild. 

Or but a vain and empty dream. 
The future yet the truth shall prove 

'Tis prophecy, whate'er it seem. 
For mills of God grind slow indeed, 

But grind they do exceeding fine, 
And Irish pluck and patience yet 

Shall see fulfilled this dream of mine. 

'Till then ! 'till then ! let prayers ascend 

To God above who rules the world. 
To speed with haste the coming day 

When that dear flag shall be unfurled 
And Erin's sons throughout the earth 

'Neath spreading sail through ocean's foam 
For God, for justice and the right 

Shall bear that glorious banner home. 



24 A GA.I,AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

And when in grand imperial might 

It floats unchallenged, bold and free 
O'er Ireland redeemed at last, 

From every thrall of tyranny 
And breast abreast with nations great, 

In royal robes of majesty, 
She stands confessed by all the world 

An independent nation free, 

Then let the man by God inspired, 

With scintillating genius bright 
And heart aglow with rapt'rous love 

Make haste the glorious task to write 
That yet unwritten epitaph. 

In thoughts that burn and words that flame, 
And when 'tis done, above it write 

The Martyred Hero, Emmett's name ! 




AND OTHER POEMS. 25 

I THINK I THUNK A LIE. 

I used to think when I was young, 

And my heart was free from guile, 
That there was grief in every tear 

And joy in every smile; 
That friendship was not all a cheat 

And love could never die, 
But thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 

I used to think about myself, 

And think that I would be 
A Governor or a President, 

Or a General like Lee ; 
But I have waited long in vain. 

Whilst years rolled slowly by, 
And, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a He. 

I used to think the ladies were 

All sweetnesses combined. 
That they were all God's last and best 

Of perfectness refined ; 
That they were not half pads and paint, 

But angels from on high. 
But, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 



26 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

The preachers, too, I used to think, 

Were not like other men. 
And were not tempted of the flesh, 

And could not, therefore, sin ; 
But since I 've traveled round a bit 

I 've -watched them on the sly, 
And, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 

The honest tiller of the soil, 

When marketing his crop, 
Takes pains to put the ripe and best 

Always upon the top ; 
I used to think those honest men 

Would never cheat nor try, 
But, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a He. 

The editors, a lordly set, 

Who live on milk and honey, 
They' ve nothing else on earth to do 

But write and rake in money ; 
Leastwise, that way I used to think, 

But now it makes me cry, 
To think about the way I thunk. 

And how I thunk a lie. 

What noble men the doctors are ! 

I used to think they came 
From Heaven or some heavenly land 

And worked for love and fame; 



AND OTHER POEMS. 27 

That they could cure all humarr ills, 

And never let us die, 
But, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 

The lawyers, too, I used to think, 

Oh, God forgive the thought. 
That their convictions of the right 

Could not by knaves be bought ; 
That they would not a client rob. 

Or "sell" him on the sly, 
But, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 

The dry-goods men are honest, too. 

They '11 swear they sell at cost, 
I used to think they told the truth, 

And all their profits lost ; 
I thought a yard was full three feet, 

Don 't ask my reasons why, 
But, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 

The hotel clerk, I used to think. 

Would try to be polite. 
Would answer questions put to him, 

And treat a stranger right ; 
And rather than he 'd play the ass 

That he would sooner die. 
But, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 



28 A GAIvAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROES 

The Democrats, I used to think, 

If once they got the floor, 
Would turn the dirty rascals out. 

And kick 'em from the door; 
That they would stop the tariff steal 

That piles the surplus high. 
But, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 

And then I thought that Harrison, 

Who took old Grover's shoes. 
Would have the backbone and the grit 

To give us all our dues ; 
But tariff laws and pension frauds 

Still make the nation sigh, 
And, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 

I used to think elections were 

The public will to voice. 
And not a thimble-rigging game 

To give the cliques their choice ; 
That patriotism played its part, 

Tho' stills were never dry. 
But, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 

I used to think that public schools 
Would fill a long-felt need. 

By teaching all our boys and girls 
To write and spell and read ; 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 29 

But now red tape and rottenness 

Is everywhere the cry, 
And, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 

The niggers, too, I used to think. 

If once they were set free. 
Would make good, honest citizens, 

Like white folks used to be ; 
But they have wandered far from grace, 

The chickens still roost high, 
And, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 

I used to think the town police. 

With all his blue and brass, 
Would never sleep upon his post. 

Nor let a criminal pass ; 
That on '* blind tigers " they would keep 

An ever watchful eye. 
But, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 

Our prison house, I used to think, 

A model kind of jail. 
That they who 'd try its walls to break 

Would most assuredly fail ; 
That guardsmen there to duty sworn 

Would ne'er let prisoners fly. 
But, thinking now of what I thunk, 

I think I thunk a lie. 



30 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

I used to think the poor Chinee 

Was worse than ** MeHcan man"- 
That we should missionaries send 

With civiHzation's plan ; 
But thinking now of late events 

Beneath our Southern sky, 
I rather think that what I thunk 

Was ''wusser" than a lie. 



A SIGH FOR THE SEA. 

Oh, give me a home by the deep, blue sea, 

The ocean all boundless and wide, 
Let me list to the sounds that ever resound 

In its every sweet, murmuring tide ; 
At morn let me wake, its breakers to hear, 

At night let it lull me to sleep. 
In its murmurs, though drear, there's music to cheer, 

When my heart seems melting to weep. 

I long to walk by the surf-beaten shore, 

And to gaze o'er the watery main. 
Which beats on the strand of my own native land. 

That never shall know me again ; 
For tho' a poor exile, wandering afar, 

Unfriended, unloved I must roam. 
My heart ever yearns and longingly turns 

To that ocean-bound isle of my home. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 31 

Then marvel you not that I sigh for a place 

On the shores of the deep blue sea, 
For each billow that gleams a messenger seems 

From that land that is dearest to me ; 
And I hear in each breeze that comes o'er the seas, 

The voice of a loved one fair. 
Who, waiting so long for her lover's return. 

Has gone to her grave in despair. 

And now all the joy in life that I ask. 

Is to walk and to muse by the sea. 
Whose every low surge is a funeral dirge 

For that loved one now lost to me ; 
And to gaze o'er the main, with longings tho' vain. 

And to mingle my tears with the wave 
Which the tides in their sweep should bear o'er the 
deep 

To moisten the grass on her grave. 




32 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

DON 'T FORGET YOUR POOR OLD MOTHER 

When young my heart was happy, I loved my dear 

old home, 
'Till reading of adventurers that tempted me to 

roam; 
Vain longings quelled my reason, ambitions filled my 

breast ; 
I left my home and loved ones and wandered far out 

West: 
I met with wild companions and led a wayward life, 
I learned to drink and gamble, and oft engaged in 

strife ; 
But sickness came upon me and filled me with despair, 
Then dear old mother's parting words came ringing 

on my ear. 

CHORUSo 

Don 't forget your poor old mother, 
Don 't forget your mother. Will, 

Don 't forget your poor old mother. 
She is praying for you still. 

One day I got a letter, and in that letter read, 

Dear Will, your poor old father is numbered with the 

dead; 
Your sister and your brother have long since gone 

away, 
Your poor old mother's all alone, no one with her to 

stay ; 



AND OTHER POKMS. 33 

Her tresses now are whiter than when you saw her 

last, 
Her steps are slow and feeble, her years are nearly 

past; 
Each day I see her waiting and watching every train, 
I know her heart is breaking, Will, to see her boy 

again. 

CHORUS. 

Don 't forget your poor old mother, 
Don 't forget your mother. Will, 

Don 't forget your poor old mother, 
She is praying for you still. 

I read that letter over and then made up my mind. 
Back to my home to hasten to mother sweet and kind ; 
I reached the cottage portal and bounded in the door 
But the place, alas, was vacant, she 'd gone forever 

more ; 
In silent desolation the place had long been left. 
Of every charm that hallowed 'twas now, alas, bereft ; 
A passing stranger told me the story of her death. 
And these the words she dying spake with her last 

parting breath. 

CHORUS. 

Don 't forget your poor old mother, 
Don 't forget your mother. Will, 

Don 't forget your poor old mother, 
She is praying for you still. 



34 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

TRUTHFUL BOLER'S NARROW ESCAPE. 

You may talk of Georgia cyclones, 

Of Alerbamer rains — 
'Bout yer South Car'liny earthquakes, 

Or Georgy hurricanes ; 
But it 's only we who 've traveled 

Over the plains out West 
Have ever seed th' elements 

Jest fairly do their best. 

As for what you call yer cyclones 

Or harricanes yer 've had, 
Which brush away a town or two, 

An' which you think so bad. 
If compared to Western blizzards. 

In works of wreck and death, 
Why, they 're no more like cyclones 

Than is a baby's breath. 

Of course, you 've had some winters cold, 

Some summers kinder hot ; 
But the West can more than beat yer, 

Yet never strike er trot. 
It ain't no use of talkin' 

Or listenin' ter yer chumps, 
For when it comes ter weather 

The West has got ther trumps. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 35 

Yer cyclones an' yer Georgy storms, 

I honestly avow, 
If they occurred in Texas, 

They'd hardly stop er plow ; 
Unless it was in springtime, 

'Long 'bout the fust uv May, 
When folks mout go er-fishing. 

Jest ter enjoy the day. 

I've seen it git so cold out thar, 

Little as yer may think. 
That all the liquor' d freeze so hard 

We couldn't git er drink. 
An' ter keep ourselves from freezin' 

We'd bust the barrel's head, 
An' eat it with er knife an' fork, 

Jest like 'twas meat an' bread. 

An' then I've seed it git so hot 

That every lake an' stream 
Would fairly bile and cook th' fish, 

While rising fogs uv steam 
Would float off like er mighty cloud 

An' shet the sun fum sight — 
An' make the day at twelve er clock 

As dark as at midnight. 

Now, as fer storms uv rain an' hail, 

You fellers couldn 't dream 
Of sich er scrape as I had once 

While drivin' uv er team — 



36 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKRO:eS 

Er six-mule perary schooner 

Er cross er Texas plain ; 
Oh, sich er scrape I trust th' Lord 

I '11 never have ergain. 

Er hundred miles frum house or tree, 

Er shed of any kind, 
When all at once I seed er cloud. 

An* heard er roarin' wind. 
While rain began ter fall in sheets 

At least four inches thick; 
Hail, too, sot in ter comin' down 

Like walls of fallin' brick. 

Th' stones were big as cocanuts. 

Not lighter by an ounce. 
An' as they hit yer oughter seed 

Jest how they' d thump and bounce. 
They pounded ev'ry mule ter death, 

My wagon broke ter smash. 
And when th' storm was over 

It was jest er pile of trash. 

Oh, I tell yer it v/as awful. 

Jest almost makes me cry ; 
What ! does any of you fellers 

S'pose I would tell a lie ? 
How did I escape, you ask, 

I'll tell yer all right now — 
'Twas by downright^darn good dodgin* 

An' by prayin' — that's jest how. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 37 

I DO NOT KNOW. 

Sometimes I pause in awful doubt 

That God e'er answers prayer, 
And ask, if so, why my poor heart 

Is left to its despair ; 
And why, if God can hear and aid 

The plea of those distressed, 
There comes no peace to break the gloom 

That burdens my poor breast. 
For earnestly I've sought in vain. 

Through prayer's most fluent flow, 
But why my pleas are answered not, 

I do not know, I do not know. 

And when I sink into the tomb. 

Shall I yet rise again ? 
Shall sentient soul rebel with earth 

And breaking death's cold chain. 
Leave cold, corrupting clay behind 

And mount to other spheres ; 
Or sleep in apathetic dust 

Through time's eternal years. 
Forgetful and forgot of earth 

With all its joys and woe ? 
Alas, though oft I question thus, 

I do not know, I do not know. 



38 A GAIyAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

Beneath my own fair sunny skies, 

Beyond my native land, 
'Neath alien stars, in lands afar, 

Beyond old ocean's strand, 
r ve sought to learn what might be known 

Of God's most holy plan 
To purge the world of wickedness 

And save the soul of man ; 
But priests and preachers prate of creeds 

No light can they bestow, 
And still in darkness, I confess, 

I do not know, I do not know. 




AND OTHER POEMS. 39 

A DREAM-CITY DREAM-* 

Near twelve o'clock one summer night, 

At great ''Columbian Fair," 
All wearied out, with brain oppressed 

From viewing wonders there, 
I sat me down a while to rest, 

In a building wondrous grand, 
And soon my soul was lulled to sleep 

By strains from Gilmore's band. 

I know not just how long I slept, 

Nor what took place the while, 
But there amid that stranger throng 

With music to beguile, 
A stranger lone I fell asleep. 

And think I must have dreamed. 
The music was a medley sweet. 

Or so at least it seemed. 

I heard or dreamed, or dreamed I heard, 
"Way down on the Swanee," 
And back in old plantation home 

Once more I seemed to be. 
I heard the darkies' happy songs, 

And my heart was filled with joy. 
To be once more amid the scenes 

I loved so when a boy. 



*The group of buildings comprising the Columbian Fair were 
called the "Dream City." 



40 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN H^ROKS 

Another old familiar strain, 

While dreaming there I heard, 
Sweet ''Annie Laurie," and my soul 

Again with love was stirred. 
And by my side I seemed to see 

My love of days gone by, 
And felt that I for her sweet sake, 
''Would lay me down and die." 

A pause, then faintly on my ear 

The sweet notes seemed to fall, 
Of "Home, Sweet Home," that sweetest strain, 

And dearest, too, of all. 
And in my heart a rapture wrought 

Of peace and joy and love — 
A vision bright of all that 's dear — 

A glimpse of Heaven above. 

But hark ! A change : my sleep was broke, 

My Southern heart was fired 
By strains the grandest, sweetest yet 

That ever God inspired. 
'Twas "Dixie Land " that on my ear 

In thrilling raptures fell, 
I sprang to feet, threw hat in air. 

And yelled a "rebel yell ! " 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 



41 



Three cheers ! I cried, for Dixie Land, 

The land that gave me birth. 
Three cheers, and then a ''tiger, too," 

For grandest land on earth. 
What recked I then of thousands there 

Who gazed with scornful eye? 
When grand old ''Dixie " smote my ear, 

I had to yell or die. 




42 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHltRN HKROKS 

UNCLE MOSE ON THE PRODIGAL'S 
RETURN. 

I don 't go much on brag an' blow, 

An' all dat kind er stuff, 
But w'en it comes ter w'at I no 

I gess I noes enuff. 
I'se read de Bible tru an' tru. 

An' Watson's Commontater, 
An' wa't I hasn't got from books 

I'se larned frum common nater. 

I'se read er heap cr books on law — 

On fisic quite er number. 
But de Bible am de book ob books — 

I '11 tell yer its a hummer. 
It tells erbout ole Prodigal 

An' his two grown-up boys, 
Who uster run er cattle ranch 

Way up in Illinoise. 

Now dat ole granger, Prodigal, 

Had ways a little quar. 
But when it come ter business. 

He wus allers far an* squar. 
He neber took ter politics. 

Nor seemed to keer er cent 
Who wus 'lected Guverner 

Nor who was Preserdent. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 43 

He tended strictly tu his ranch, 

An' raised er sight er stock ; 
He wus er hard-shell in belief — 

His hed was like er rock. 
His younges' son wern't bilt dat way, 

He wus lazy like an' rude ; 
He wudn't plow nor mind de stock, 

But had to be er dude. 

So one day w'en he met his dad. 

Way down beside de branch, 
He sed : " Ole dad, I want'er cash 

My interest in de ranch. 
In mind I 'se made up w'at I '11 do, 

I '11 tell you now my plan — 
I 'm gwine erway to some big town 

An' make mysef a man." 

De ole man stood awhile, den sed : 
' * I think I see yer game ; 
Like dat ole sockless Kansas chap, 

Yer want ter win er name. 
Well, yer shall hab in solid cash 

Yer hones', riteful shere 
Ob all de Ian', de cows an' sheep, 

An' ebery ting dat 's here." 

An' so de ole man went ter town 

And drawed from out de bank 
Enough of gold and silver coin 

Ter fill er water tank. 



44 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROBS 

An' fotch it home in leather bags, 

An' give it ter dat boy, 
Who almost cut de pigeon wing, 

He wus so full ob joy. 

Well, dat smart Alec wid his cash 

Lit out upon de kyars 
Ter try his luck in Chicago, 

Ermong de bulls and bars. 
He bought er place in de exchange. 

An' went it strong on wheat. 
An' what he lost he tried ergin 

Ter make it up on meat. 

On cotton nex' he posted up 

Ter give dat game er whack, 
Hopin' dat he 'd make er deal 

An' win his losses back. 
But fortune didn't seem ter smile 

Upon him wuth er cent. 
An' ever' dollar dat he had 

Ter kiver margins went. 

His watch an' chain he nex' put up 

Ter raise er final stake. 
But lost it on three card monte, 

Played by a circus fake. 
Now busted flat as he cud be, 

Widout a single nick. 
He had ter ax his boardin' miss 

Ter let him run on tick. 



AND OTHBR POKMS. 45 

But w'en er man is out er cash, 

He *s sho ter luse his smile, 
An' soon his boadin' miss foun' out 

Dat he had drapped his pile ; 
An' den she bounced him out ob doors, 

Ter loaf upon de street, 
An' nex' de free lunch counter man 

Jist bounced him fer a beat. 

Ter steer ergin de vagrant law. 

An' not git floated in, 
Wus mo' den he cud hope ter do, 

Widout er home er frien' ; 
An' so he hid hissef all day, 

'Till it was gittin' dusk. 
Den slipt out ter de slaughter pen 

An' filled hissef on husk. 

But second table after hogs 

Was not sich sumpchus fare 
As dat young chap cud git at home, 

If he wus only dere. 
An' so he, talkin' to hissef, 

Sed, " I will jist be durn. 
Even ef I have ter hop cross-ties, 

I '11 tu my dad return." 

An' so he straightway hit de grit — 

Jist lit out fer his home — 
An' 'twasn 't may days before 

In sight he 'd fairly come. 



46 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HBROKS 

De ole man, lookin' down de road, 

His wanderin' son espied, 
Den run an' fell upon his neck, 

An' sobbed an' blubbering, cried. 

Den takin' him inter de house 

Give him his Sunday cote. 
His bran new boots an' diamon' ring, 

An' dressed him like er spote. 
Fine invitations by him sent 

All round de country flew, 
Invitin' all his frens ter cum 

Out ter er barbicue. 

He sent out fer his oberseer. 

An' bid him quickly kill 
De fattes' ox upon de ranch, 

His sons an' frens ter fill. 
He sed he didn 't keer er cent 

Fer w'at de world might say. 
He felt so glad ter see his son 

He 'd celebrate de day. 

His udder boy w'at stayed at home — 

Young Elder was his name — 
Heerd of de racket gwine on 

An' 'lowed dat he 'd be blame 
If he was gwinter stan' sich biz — 

It wusn 't far nor squar; 
Dat he was jest as good as him, 

If he hadn 't been no whar. 



AND OTHKR POEJMS. 47 

But w'en de niggers tole old Prod 

Wat Elder had ter say 
He lef de crowd up at de house 

An' hurried right erway 
Down to de barn whar Elder was, 

An' ter dat youngster sed : 
*' Yer brudder is erlive at home, 

Aldo we thought him ded." 

An' den he went on wid er yarn 

'Bout havin' pleasure most 
Ober one old ram's dats foun' 

Dan ninety-nine not lost. 
An' tried ter taffy up his son 

Wid chestnut tales like dis, 
Dat while he stayed at home an' worked 

Dat ebery ting was his. 

But Elder was as mad as sheol, 

An' tole his daddy plain 
He wasn 't satisfied er bit ; 

Dat he troo sun an' rain 
Had stayed at home and done de work 

De whole long summer troo 
An' neber eben got er goat, 

Much less er barbicue. 



48 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROBS 

De moral now ter dis yer tale 

Ter me is bery plain ; 
Ole Prod ought not ter bin so glad 

Ter see dat boy ergain, 
Fer as he neber was no good, 

But allers breedin' harm, 
He ought not ter bin erlowed 

Ter come back on dat farm. 




AND OTHEJR POEMS. 49 

THE STARS AND BARS.* 

The "Stars and Bars" has fallen 

And will never float again, 
But bright on history's pages 

It will live without a stain. 

For, proudest recollections 

Of great battles fought and won. 

And glorious deeds of valor 
By Southern patriots done, 

Embalms in sacred mem'ry 
That bright banner loved and dear, 

To keep through coming ages 
As the one without a peer. 

'Twas born of stern oppression 
And was cradled in the storm, 

When retributive justice 
Rose demanding a reform. 

And in the name of liberty 

It was christened in the blood 
Of Patriots, and of Heroes, 

Flowing then in crimson flood. 

And thus endeared to freedom 

By love's every sacred tie, 
Our hearts were rent with anguish 

When we saw it droop and die. 



Written soon after tlie surrender of Lee. 



50 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

We held it m affection, 

And rejoiced to see it wave, 

We loved the men who bore it. 
For they were true and brave. 

We loved its holy mission, 
Every hope that it inspired, 

And we honor every martyr 
Who beneath its folds expired. 

We reverence, too, its chieftains. 
Every consecrated name, 

Who 'neath that star-wreathed banner 
Achieved their glorious fame. 

But aided not by nations 
Who beheld it from afar, 

Alone it met the tempest 
On the fiery crest of war. 

No nation recognized it, 

Not an arm was stretched to save, 
But men will ne'er forget it — 

As the banner of the brave. 

But now, alas ! 'tis fallen 

And will proudly float no more, 

Our soldiers' tents are folded. 
And the din of war is o'er. 



AND OO'HBR POKMS. Si 

Our cannon throats are silent, 

Every sword is in its sheath, 
Our camps are all deserted 

Save the silent camps of death. 

No sentinel now on duty- 
Doth sweet freedom's watch-word tell 

For liberty was ended 

When that glorious banner fell. 



BE CAREFUL HOW YOU TREAD. 

In walking through earth's verdant fields, 

Be careful where you tread, 
Don 't crush the little flowers 

While gazing overhead. 
The stars I know are brighter far 

Than flowers that deck the sod, 
But both the flowers and the stars 

Are handiworks of God. 

And in the fields of human life, 

Oft found in humble ways, 
The pure in heart, the mild and good 

Escape our upward gaze. 
And in our rush and wild pursuit 

Of best in social skies. 
We sometimes crush a noble heart 

That heaven itself would prize. 



52 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN H^ROKS 



INFELICE. 

I sometimes wake in the night time, 

And visions come crowding my brain, 
Which burden my soul with sadness. 

And which I resist but in vain. 
The path of my Hfe's long journey, 

A trail through a desert appears. 
Where thorns, the stones and the thistles 

Are bathed with my blood and my tears. 

All along are the wrecks and ruins 

Of my prospects gone to decay. 
Of idols I 've loved and cherished. 

All broken and left by the way. 
But then, through my tear-dimmed vision, 

That path trending upward I see. 
To a home of rest and pleasure. 

Where loved ones are waiting for me. 

So gathering my remnants of faith, 

And hugging them close to my breast. 
As beggars draw closer their rags 

When by cold and hunger oppressed, 
I look no longer behind me. 

But my gaze still upward I bend. 
Heedless of what I encounter. 

Resolved to push on to the end. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 53 

THE VALE OF LOSAHATCHIE, 

Oh, the vale of Losahatchie, 

How I long to be there nov/, 
To bathe my fevered temples 

And to cool my aching brow, 
In the clear and limpid waters 

Of the old Coloma's spring, 
And to rest within the shadow, 

While the birds above me sing. 

I am tired with the tumult 

Of the city's noisy din ; 
With the struggle for existence, 

And the babbling tongues of men, 
And I long for that old valley, 

With its peace and plenty blest. 
And to make my home once more 

In the old parental nest. 

No breaking banks could bring dismay 

In that old valley grand ; 
With plow I 'd write my honest checks 

And drafts on fertile land, 
While that great banker, nature's God, 

Whose wealth is seas and main, 
Would principal and interest pay 

Tenfold in golden grain. 



54 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

And when old Sol had ploughed his course 

Across the heavenly way, 
And old Coloma's mountain top 

Lit up with golden ray ; 
How sweet would be my night's repose 

And undisturbed my dream, 
Soothed there by notes of nightingale, 

And lulled by murmuring stream. 



LINES FOR JEFFERSON DAVIS^S 
ANNIVERSARY* 

I have read on history's pages, 
Penned by poets and by sages, 
Of the heroes of the ages, 

Names which all men revere ; 
But I never yet have read, 
Of the living or the dead. 
Of whom it could be said 

He was Jeff Davis's peer. 

Go search you all the rolls of fame. 

Go seek you all to find a name 

So free from every blot of blame — 

But your search will be in vain. 
He was honest, brave and true, 
No dishonor ever knew; 
Before the world's review 

He passed without a stain. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 55 

Then let us all now while we may, 
On this our chieftain's natal day — 
Yes, we who with him wore the gray — 

Sing anthems to his praise. 
'Twas for us he wore the chains, 
Uncomplaining bore his pains, 
And while life with us remains 

We '11 praise him in our lays. 

Long we held him in affection 
As a type of all perfection, 
And we trust at resurrection 

We '11 meet him on that shore — 
To rest in bliss eternal. 
In realms of light supernal 
Where bloody wars infernal 

Will be known never more. 




56 A GAIwAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

SERMON BY UNCLE MOSE. 

No. I. 

My belubbcd cuUud brudders, 

Havin' lef at home my specks, 
I '11 hav' ter ax yer pardin' 

Fer not readin' ob my tex ; 
But yer '11 fine de inspirasion 

Ob what I has ter say 
In de pistle ob de postle 

To de church in Africa. 

De language ar explicit, 

An' dis is what it am ; 
Er man shud git er hustle on 

An' be not like er clam. 
So please ter give attention, 

An' try ter keep erwake 
Whilse I de applicasion 

Will now attempt ter make. 

Now de fust ting I must tell yer. 

An' I gits it frum my tex, 
'Er clam's no good fer dis yer worl*, 

Nor fitten fer de nex : 
He 's er lazy, stupid creetur — 

Yes, dat 's jess what he am — 
An' er man shud git er hustle on, 

An' be not like er clam. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 

All yer jinin' ob societies, 

An' marchin' roun' wid flags, 
Ain 't at all er gwinter help yer 

Keep yer familys outer rags, 
Fer behine yer grips an signuls, 

Yer flip-flops and flim-flams, 
Dere 's some hustler after nickles 

In de pockets ob de clams. 

All dis talk erbout dem pawn shops, 

De new sub-treasury scheme, 
Is er snare an' er delusion 

An' an empty-headed dream, 
An' yer '11 fine when yer hab waited, 

Dat its but er trickster's sham ; 
So yer wants ter git er hustle on, 

An' be not like er clam. 

When de wily politician 

Comes er' roun' ter get yer vote, 
An' vites yer ter de barbicue 

To eat de roasted shote : 
When he puts his arms er roun' yer 

An' begs yer take er dram, 
Yer had better git er hustle on, 

An' be not like er clam. 

Fer as sho as I 'se er preachin' 
When de 'lection day is pass. 

An' dat poUtician's 'lected, 
An' yer craps are in de grass, 



58 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHKRN HKROES 

He will scorn yer an' will spurn yer, 
Fer de fool he knows yer am, 

An' yer '11 wish yer'd kept er hustlin* 
An' been not like er clam. 

Er word now in conclusion, 

While we pass er roun' de hat, 
Yer wants ter git er hustle on 

When we shall cum ter dat. 
Let some one grine de organ 

An' start us up er psalm — 
Please, brudders, git er hustle on. 

An' be not like er clam. 




AND OTHKR POEMS. 59 

A REBELS REVERIE. 

I was a rebel and my heart 

Has never by so slight a pause 
As one pulsation failed to beat 

With Constance to that sacred cause 
For which we of the Sunny South 

Intrepid stood 'mid battle flame, 
And for which cause we even yet 

Can speak without a blush of shame. 

And yet I know and I admit 

The fact that men who wore the blue 
Were just as honest and as brave 

As we who differed in our view 
With them on questions of the right ; 

Nor will I even now gainsay 
That they less just in battle fought 

Than we who faced them in the fray. 

They fought with patriotic love 

This Union grand to shield and save, 
And to uphold their country's flag — 

The flag which their fore-fathers gave ; 
Whilst we who wore the Southern gray 

Sought to maintain state sovereignty, 
And fought with all our might and main 

For home and white supremacy. 



60 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

That was Alpha and Omega, 

The sum total of the story ; 
Each side was right, and for their cause 

Won immortal fame and glory ; 
And when on Appomattox's field 

Great Lee and Grant stood hand in hand. 
Re-welded was the broken link 

Of this our Union great and grand. 

Nor will I now with needless words 

Revert to wounds that long have healed ; 
We staked our all and played our hand 

Upon the bloody battle field, 
And tho' by fate doomed to defeat — 

Doomed to behold our banner's fall — 
Whate'er we lost this much we gained : 

A world's respect — that 's worth it all. 

And after all who now can say 

That what is now is not the best, 
Since every line is blotted out 

'Twixt North and South, 'twixt East and West? 
One nation now, one common flag, 

One Union that embraces all, 
One sisterhood of Sovereign States, 

One common fate whate'er befall. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 61 

And as we stand united now 

The sun shines not on fairer land, 
Nor land so blessed by nature's God, 

As this our country, great and grand ; 
Then let Old Glory proudly wave, 

O'er North and South, o'er East and West; 
It is the flag our father's gave — 

The flag by God supremely blessed. 



MY MOTHER'S HEART* 

'Tis sweet to feel, what'er betide, 
When friends forsake and foes deride, 
That one warm heart beats for me still ; 
One heart which only death can chill. 

When somber gloom and cares oppress. 
And bitter griefs my soul distress, 
'Tis solace sweet to feel and know 
That faithful heart still shares my woe. 

It matters not what fate be mine, 
What star of destiny may shine, 
Give fate her mood to frown or smile. 
That heart from me naught can beguile. 

For when grief 's bitter cup I 've quaffed, 
And writhed beneath a sland'rous shaft, 
Or by ingratitude been stung. 
That heart to me hath fondly clung. 



62 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

And when upon a bed of pain 
Consuming fevers burned my brain, 
And death came near — oh, hideous thing 
That mother was my sheltering wing. 

And now whate'er be fate's decree 
Of good or bad in store for me, 
I reck not, but let come what will. 
Since that fond heart is constant still. 

And when I *ve done at last with earth. 
Where claimed by sorrow from my birth, 
I hope to see Heaven's portals part 
And rest once more on mother's heart. 




AND OTHKR PO:eMS. 63 

TO MINNIEL 

Tho' thy bright smiHng face but twice I have met, 

Its impressions with me I can never forget. 

It will cling to my mind wherever I be, 

And keep me, dear girl, ever thinking of thee. 

When flying by steam o'er the smooth iron rail. 

Or cleaving the wave 'neath the white spreading sail, 

Wherever I roam, on the land or the sea, 

I '11 be thinking, dear girl, be thinking of thee. 

When I view the great mountains eternal with snow, 
Or traverse dark caverns, earth's surface below, 
'Mid whatever scenes, wherever I flee, 
I '11 be thinking, dear girl, be thinking of thee. 

When lightly I trip in the merry quadrille. 

Or fly in the chase over valley and hill, 

'Mid every gay thought, in the height of my glee, 

I'll be thinking, dear girl, be thinking of thee. 

Should fortune e'er bless me and fill from her store 
My purse and my coffers with bright shining ore. 
As I count o'er the mass, each piece that I see, 
I '11 be thinking, dear girl, be thinking of thee. 



64 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

But should fate, in a mood, some spite to appease. 
Lay my form low with destroying disease, 
1 '11 smile in defiance of her saddest decree. 
And be happy, dear girl, by thinking of thee. 

And when all my labors on earth shall be done, 
i\nd I view the dark shadows of life's setting sun, 
Like an angel beside me, thy face I will see. 
And be thinking, dear girl, be thinking of thee. 




AND OTHKR POKMS. 65 

AN EVENING REVERIE. 

The sinking sun's last lingering light 
Has tinged the western sky with gold, 

And deepening shades of coming night 
Now gathering 'round me I behold. 

The sweet, refreshing evening breeze 

About my brow begins to play, 
And now I see through yonder trees 

Bright Jupiter's first twinkling ray. 

And while I sit in calm repose. 

Recalling memories of the past ; 
Long by-gone days again disclose 

Sweet scenes of youth too bright to last. 

Sweet home, dear place of peace and love. 

Hallowed by a mother's tread ; 
To thee in thought I swiftly move, 

And greet the loved ones that are dead. 

Then off again in fancy's flight. 

To school — the place of youthful joy. 

Where merry faces greet my sight. 
Whom once I loved when yet a boy. 

Then on the tented field of Mars, 

Through battle smoke with rallying cry 

Beneath the glorious ** Stars and Bars," 
I strike for Southern liberty. 

5 



66 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROES 

Next with the throttle in my hand, 
My throbbing locomotive flies 

From town to town — across the land, 
Like meteor athwart the skies. 

Then sitting down by Eula's side 
I clasp her Httle hand in mine ; 

And while the moments swiftly glide, 
I drink the nectar — love divine. 

Such are the scenes that swiftly pass 

Before my fancy in its range, 
Made dim by ''memory's mellowing glass," 

And proving time's eternal change. 

But folded be my fancy's wings, 

That bear me back to scenes of gladness, 

For now each scene my bosom wrings 
With keenest pangs of grief and sadness. 

Indulging in a boyish freak — 
A wish in other lands to roam, 

Now makes my heart grow faint and weak, 
When e'er I breathe the name of home. 

The schoolmates of my boyhood's days, 
From all save memory have fled, 

While many of my friends in gray 

In camps of death their tents have spread. 



AND OTHKR POBMS. 67 

And she for whom I would have died, 
False to her every vow has proved, 

And with the scorn of wounded pride 
I curse the day I ever loved. 

But there is one with noble heart 

Who faithfully to me has stood, 
And of my cares hath borne a part, 

When spurned by those of nearer blood. 

Yes, noble girl — my Ossie dear, 

What, though I search the world around, 

A heart more true, a face more fair 

Than thine, sweet girl, can ne'er be found. 

And while my heart beats warm and free, 

Whatever skies above me bend, 
Remember, dear, you have in me 

A cousin and a faithful friend. 




68 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 



A WISR* 

I long for the day and I pray for the hour 

When the cause of the right o'er the wrong shall 
prevail ; 
When the South shall have gained the means and the 
power 
To make the foes of her liberty quail. 

Yes, I long to hear the cannon's loud peal, 
And to see once more our banners unfurled ; 

Whilst the rattle of guns and the clashing of steel 
Shall announce our cause still alive to the world. 

And I long for more leaders like Jackson and Lee, 
To lead us once more our foemen to meet ; 

That we by the flash of our sabres may see 

How to follow the course of their broken retreat. 

And I long to see die the last vandal in blue, 
And to dance to the notes of his funeral knell ; 

And I long for a hole in the ground to look through, 
When he joins with all his companions in h — 1. 



* Written soon after the surrender, during- the ever damnable so- 
called reconstruction period. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 69 

ALABAMA** 

Alabama! Alabama! 

I am dreaming now of thee, 
And I see the trend of thousands 

Coming from beyond the sea, 
As they mount upon the billows. 

Steaming through the spray and foam, 
Wildly joyous at the prospect 

Of an Alabama home. 

And I see within my dreaming 

Visions of the future cast 
That shall overwhelm with brilliance 

All the glories of the past; 
For I see the spirit Progress 

Hovering o'er thee with her wand, 
At whose lightest touch responding, 

Wonders burst on every hand. 

She but touches : armies marching 

Come with axe, with pick and spade, 
Felling forests, bridging rivers, 

Delving out the level grade 
That shall be for steaming chariots 

A double iron-bounded course. 
Where the rushing wheels resounding 

Shake the mountains with their force. 



♦Written about the year 1874. 



70 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

Again she strikes, and cities rising 

Like exhalations from the earth, 
Set the mighty world in wonder 

At their unexpected birth; 
And I hear a hum of factories, 

Blending in a ceaseless roar 
Like the sound of ocean billows 

Breaking on a distant shore. 

And I see thy mighty mountains 

Torn asunder for their wealth, 
And I see thy fountains crowded 

By multitudes in search of health. 
And I see thy many rivers 

Opening out into the sea, 
Vessels crowded — golden freighted — 

Foreign tribute brought to thee. 

She strikes again : thy .vales I see 

Are waving with rich golden grain, 
While fleets within thy harbors wait 

To bear it o'er the watery main. 
And I see thy rocky hill-sides 

Purpling with the luscious vine, 
And I hear the voice of nations 

Praising Alabama wine. 

But still a brighter scene appears 
Breaking on my 'raptured eye; 

Temples grand and halls of learning 
Spread the land like stars on high, 



AND OTHER POKMS. 



71 



And from out those halls and temples 
I mark the hosts that come and go — 

Poets, statesmen and commanders 

Whose fame shall set the world aglow. 

And yet once more I see that wand 

Lifted high, the land to smite, 
While superstition's saints and devils 

Take their everlasting flight. 
The wand descends : a shock I feel, 

A mist comes over all I see, 
My sleep is broke and all my dream 

Has been of ''what is yet to be." 




72 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

GEORGIA- 

Hail! my native Georgia! 

Fair are thy sunny skies, 
Thy mountains grand on every hand 

In splendor round me rise ; 
And down thy fertile valleys fair 

Bright sparkling streamlets flow, 
Whilst flowers rare prefume the air 

And set thy hills aglow. 

Great empire of the South, 

Of all thou art the best, 
For every toil upon thy soil 

Returns a bounty blest. 
Thy every mound and every hill 

A wealth of minerals hold. 
Which waits but skill, the pick and drill, 

Bright treasures to unfold. 

Thy rivers at their source 

Flow forth from beds of gold, 
And down the land through valleys grand 

They sweep in billows bold, 
And on their waves thy commerce great 

Finds exit to the sea. 
And nations all, both great and small. 

Pay tribute unto thee. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 73 

Thy sons in war are true and brave, 

In peace thy virtues glow ; 
No traitor's name nor coward's shame 

Doth thy proud records show, 
But thy bright star on freedom's flag, 

As luminous as at birth, 
Will ever shine with light divine 

Whilst freedom dwells on earth. 

Thou art a land of happy homes, 

Where peace and pleasure reigns ; 
Thy pretty girls, earth's treasure-pearls. 

Make famous thy domains. 
Thou art indeed supremely blest 

By nature's thousand charms ; 
Great mines of wealth and founts of health 

Thou claspest in thine arms. 

And thou hast many mountains grand. 

And valleys fair to see, 
And heaven's sun ne'er shone upon 

A fairer land than thee; 
And as thy wandering son returns. 

Resolved no more to roam. 
He lifts his song in measure strong 

To praise his native home. 



74 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HE^ROES 

SPEECH OF UNCLE MOSE. 

My frien's and cuUud citizens, 

I'm er gwine ter make er speech, 
An' I want ter hab de 'tention 

Ob all in hearin' reach. 
My words are nuts ob wizdum. 

Shucked clean ob all de hulls, 
An' I hope dey'll find a lodgement 

In de hollers ob yer skulls. 

Dis am de white man's country. 

An' dat nigger am er fool 
Who thinks de white folks gwinter 

Low de culled folks ter rule ; 
For de Massachusetts Yankee 

An' de Southern Democrat 
Am united same as brudders 

On de politix ob dat. 

You may shout yerself plum outer breff, 

And cut yer biggest figers, 
A whoopin' fer dem candidates 

Who say dey love de niggers ; 
But you write it down with charcoal 

An' jes keep it fer a rule, 
You '11 never gain by poHtix 

Forty acres and er mule. 



AND OTHER POKMS* 75 

When Marse Lincum giv' us freedom, 

'Twant no freedom fur ter steal, 
But to earn an hones' libbin' 

By a grubbin' in de fiel', 
An' when dat proclamation 

Old hones' Abram wrote 
He nebber thought a nigger 

Would git rich upon his vote. 

And now I wants ter 'vise yer. 

While er talkin' on dat line, 
You better quit yo politix 

And de granger's party jine ; 
Den you can eat yer chickens, 

'Thout ketchin' 'em at night, 
An' when yer see a p'liceman 

Won 't be trembling at de sight. 

A word now in conclusion, 

To you upper crusty coons. 
With yo' fancy waikin' canes, 

An' yer striped pantaloons ; 
You better git yerselves ter work. 

An' stop yo' braggin' sass, 
'Fore some white man's cungeration 

Lays you out below de grass. 



76 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROES 

THE DEATH OF WILLIAM McKINLEY. 

Dead, dead! The spirit now has fled. 

Cold on its bier the pulseless clay 
Unconscious lies in dreamless rest, 

To wake no more till that great day, 
When God shall bid all sleepers rise, 

To stand before His mighty throne. 
There face to face in judgment seat, 

To know their God as they are known. 

Till then, kind husband, rest in sleep, 

From thy fair brow death's chilling dew 
Is warmed away by farewell kiss 

Of constant wife so loving true. 
Closed be those eyes, forever closed, 

Who's light was wont but to portray 
The genial heart and friendly soul 

Of him who sleeps, alas, for aye. 

But whilst untimely thou must sleep, 

Cast down by vile assassin's hand, 
Thy name around the world shall sweep — 

Tny praise be sung in every land, 
Thy glorious deeds examples be, 

For all who yet on earth may dwell. 
Thy brilliant fame still brighter grow, 

Till time with earth shall bid farewell. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 77 

Yes, sleep on, veteran, take thy rest ; 

No war alarms thy sleep shall break, 
Thy faithful sword in honors decked. 

Thy glory and thy fame bespeak. 
No spoils of war nor trophies rich 

From conquered foe was ever wrung, 
More grand than that, which thou hast gained — 

Just praise from every Southern tongue. 

Sleep, glorious ruler, gently sleep, 

Tby last great pageant ends in gloom. 
Half-masted droops a million flags, 

Whilst thou art borne to waiting tomb ; 
Throughout the world all nations mourn 

And yield their plenteous tears in vain, 
In grief sincere, well may they weep, 

They ne'er will see thy like again. 

'Till Judgment Day, great spirit sleep 

In death's profound, unbroken rest. 
Thy native earth thy dust shall keep. 

Thy name survive, by country blest, 
Whilst onward rolling years go by 

Thy lustrous fame with time increase. 
The grandeur of thy work remain, 

Till time on earth itself shall cease. 



78 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

Then mighty soul from grave arise, 

Come forth unawed to meet thy God, 
Thy duty done, thy people's prayers 

Shall pave the way for thy reward — 
A place on high with ceaseless joys. 

Eternal with unchanging love — 
With all that's pure and best of earth 

Be thine a home with God above. 



FAITH* 

Beyond the golden sunset 

Of life's departing day 
I see a star ascending 

With ever bright'ning ray ; 
Transcendent in its beauty. 

For faith has made it known, 
The beacon of my Maker 

To lead me to His throne. 

And, arching o'er the heavens, 

The bow of peace I see. 
And in it read the promise 

Which God hath made to me ; 
For I have had the deluge 

Of sin's repentant tears, 
And I rest upon Moriah, 

Where the cross of Christ appears. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 79 

DON'T IT SORTER LOOK THAT WAY? 

When you see a fancy feller 

Loafing 'round upon the streets, 
AUers smoking cigarettes, 

And hobnobin' with dead-beats ; 
While his mother does his washing, 

For which he doesn 't pay ; 
You would take him for a dude — 

Don 't it sorter look that way ? 

An' when he gets ter fishin' 

Or keeps a pinter dog, 
He can tell a lie as easy 

As fallin* off a log ; 
Or if he doesn 't fabricate 

His imagination's play 
Er 'mounts ter 'bout the same — 

Don 't it sorter look that way ? 

And when you go to meetin', 

An' set down in er pew, 
. An' er gal with monster hat 

Shuts the preacher out from view, 
; Don 't you feel more like cussin' 

Than you do to kneel and pray ; 
jNow really, if you don 't, 

Don 't you sorter feel that way ? 



A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

An' when 'lection time 's approachin' 

An' er feller comes er round 
Er bowin' an er scrapin', 

An' er talkin' so profoun' — 
Uv the ** conflicts of opinion," 

An' the ''crisis uv the day," 
He 's er hankerin' fer offlce — 

Don 't it sorter look that way ? 

An' I needn 't ter remind you 

That the time has got here when 
The finances uv er man 

Hides er mighty heap uv sin ; 
For if he 's got the ducats 

He can kill and he can slay. 
An' the jury will excuse him — 

Don 't it sorter look that way ? 

But should you hear a lawyer 

Runnin' other lawyers down, 
An' er wearing of er swagger, 

As if he run the town ; 
You may bet your bottom dollar 

He 's a jackleg every way, 
Or er petifogin' shyster — 

Don 't it sorter look that way ? 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 81 

An' when you hear a feller, 

As yer can most any time, 
Abusin' some po' doctor. 

An' accusin' him of crime, 
You may swear he owes fur physic 

An' don 't intend ter pay, 
For it allers seems ter happen 

That it 's sorter that er way. 

An' the man that reads er paper 

Fur er year er even more, 
An' writes ter stop its comin' 

'Thout settlin' up his score, 
He 's er dead beat an' er scoundrel 

Who means ter beat his way. 
An' the devil's gwine ter get him, 

Don 't it sorter look that way ? 




82 A GAIvAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 



TIME. 

Roll on, roll on, eternal time ! 

All nature bows to thee. 
The mountains and the hills sublime. 

The rivers and the sea 
Shall mingle in one common wreck, 

And earth shall pass away. 
Ere thou thy wasting course shall check, 

Or thy destructions stay. 

Coeval with the God-head born, 

Coeval with his reign. 
All human fame thou laugh'st to scorn, 

All monuments disdain ; 
Thou see'st nations rise and fall. 

And empires cease to be ; 
O'er burned out worlds thou spread'st a pall 

Of darkness under thee. 

Go, puerile man, nor deign to boast 

Thy strength or high estate ; 
Suns, moons and stars in darkness lost 

By time's ordaining fate, 
Shall leave a black and empty void, 

Where once they bright revolved ; 
And all that is shall be destroyed 

Eire time shall be dissolved. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 83 

THE DEATH OF JEFFERSON DAVIS.* 

The grand old hero sleeps at last, 

His life's long march is done ; 
The grim night-watch his post has past 

And left him all alone. 
No war's wild notes shall wake him more, 

No tyrant's hand shall harm ; 
In bivouac of death he sleeps 

Secure from all alarm. 

No royal crown e'er pressed his brow, 

Tho' kingHest he of men, 
And, tho' in death he slumbers now, 

'Tis not for tongue or pen 
To add unto the chaplets green 

Which fame for him has wove ; 
A patriot true without a stain — 

A man that gods might love. 

His glorious sword, long laid aside, 

Is rusting in decay ; 
His noble voice in halls of state 

Is silenced now for aye ; 
But history's muse, with flaming pen. 

When writing Davis's name. 
Will leave on time's eternal scroll 

The brightest gem of fame. 



* Written on hearing- of his demise. 



84 A GALAXY OF SOUTHEJRN HEROES 

SHALL I FORGET? 

Shall I forget sweet Dora's face? 

A face so dear in days gone by, 
Shall I forget her winsome grace, 

The brilliance of her jet black eye ? 
No, whilst my memory keeps its throne, 

I '11 curse the day when first we met, 
And though my heart's as cold as stone, 

Her beauty I can ne'er forget. 

From land to land, from sea to sea, 

I 've fled without an aim in view. 
But like a dream, where e'er I flee. 

Her haunting face my steps pursue ; 
Her words of scorn and cold disdain 

Within my heart are rankling yet. 
And though I struggle, 'tis in vain. 

Her lovely face I '11 ne'er forget. 

But I will not attach a blame 

To one of such transcendent charms ; 
For heaven itself would blush with shame 

To see such beauty in my arms. 
'Twas fate that taught my youthful heart, 

Its love upon such charms to set, 
But fate can never teach the art 

To change from love and then forget. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 85 

Then marvel not that on my brow 

The clouds of grief and sorrow rest, 
For love can make the strongest bow, 

When that love remains unblest ; 
Yes, darker than the shades of hell. 

Is love that lingers in regret. 
No light can e'er its gloom dispel ; 

It never, never can forget. 




86 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROE^S 



THE EVENING PRAYER* 

'Twas grandma taught our little girl, 
Our four-year darling May, 
Her *'Now I lay me down to sleep," 
On bended knee to pray, 

* * If I should die before I wake, 
I pray the Lord my soul to take ; " 
And then to close the evening prayer, 
Would have her add thereto : 

*' God bless my Grandma Smith, 
Grandpa Smith and Uncle Joe, 
My Grandpa White and Grandma White, 
And (other names) good-night.*' 

One evening at her grandma's knee, 
When tired out with play, 
The little darling bowed her head 
Her evening prayer to say. 
She finished out the little rhymes, 
And blessings then began. 
With *' Damma Smith and Dampa White, 
And Dampa Smith," and here the light 
Shut out by drooping lids, 
She added in her innocence, 
(Without thought of fun or jokes), 
"Dam — dam — and all my dam tinfolks." 



AND OTHKR POBMS. 87 

THE FLAG AND HARP OF ERIN* 

Written for the occasiou aad read before the Robert Emmett Club, 

March 5, 1895. 

(Dedicated in reverence, and with affection to the memory of Rev. 
Father A. J. Ryan, our South's beloved, patriotic poet priest, whose 
sweet and soul-inspiring- songs shall ever shed a halo of g^lory over that 
"Fallen Banner" of my Southland, which like the "Flag of Erin," 
represents those sublime principles ever enshrined in the hearts of all 
true lovers of " Truth, Justice and Liberty," and which, heaven-born, 
will never die — 

While suns and moons resplendent roll 

And God reg-ards a patriot's soul.) 

Sons of old Erin, grand is the story 
Which history tells of your land and her glory ; 
But the bright star resplendent that beams on her crest 
Is the name of her Emmett — her brightest and best. 

A martyr of freedom, he sleeps with the dead, 
But his name, never dying, will eternally shed 
A lustre of glory on the land of his birth. 
And his fame be undimmed by any of earth. 

For his country he lived, for his country he died. 
And wherever on earth true patriots abide 
His praise will be sung and his glorious name 
Will shine like a star in the temple of fame. 

Yes, grand is the story of your land in the past. 
But brighter and grander 'twill be at the last. 
For a "Washington " yet for your country will rise 
And the sunburst of freedom shall brighten her skies. 



88 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEJROKS 

Yea, thousands of hearts are panting to-day 

For a leader to rise and lead them away 

Across the wide sea to their own native isle, 

There to sweep from her shores the foes who defile. 

And the God of all justice on heaven's high throne 
A leader will send and a way will make known 
By which your '' green flag" shall in triumph yet 

wave 
O'er your ocean-bound isle, the land of the brave. 

Then grasp Erin's flag, unfurl it once more ; 

Let it float to the breeze as it floated of yore 

In the land of your fathers, so blessed by your God 

Ere the foot of a tyrant had sullied its sod. 

Yea, bring it forth now ! Let it float for a day, 
In the sunlight of heaven its colors display, 
For down through the ages with centuries old 
It comes without stain on its green and its gold. 

Uprear it aloft ! yes, spread it on high, 

That the saints whom ye love, looking down from 

the sky 
To this bright land of freedom — the land of its 

friends — 
May send it their blessings on the heaven-lent winds. 

What tho* the old flag for ages exiled, 

A stranger 'mid strangers, by tyrants reviled, 

Is forced yet awhile an outcast to rove 

By the grace of your God that flag shall yet prove 



AND OTHKR POEMS. 89 

" A pillar of fire " to lead you again 
To the home of your fathers, your rights to regain ; 
Then woe to the tyrants who stand in your way, 
For vengeance is God's and your wrongs He '11 repay. 

Then string ye the harp, attune it again. 
Let the rapturous notes of your country's refrain 
Break forth in wild numbers, your hearts to inspire, 
And with glory resounding, your souls set on fire. 

With the heart-burning wrath that patriots feel 
When stung by disdain and crushed by the heel 
Of despots who laugh while they rivet the chains 
And mock with their scorn the fallen one's pains. 

Yes, string the old harp, let its music be heard 
Till the soul of each Celt with emotion is stirred 
For freedom and justice, for God and the right — 
Till shoulder to shoulder they all shall unite 

Beneath the old banner so long an exile. 
And with eyes steady fixed on their evergreen isle. 
They shall march to its music and bear o 'er the foam 
The flag of old Erin to its home, sweet home. 



90 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROES 

THE BALLOT- 

On which side are you, my brother ? 

Tis your ballot that will tell, 
And will count for you in Heaven, 

Or against you deep in hell. 

Are you on the side of morals, 
Of temperance and the right ? 

Or are you for the traffic 
Your fellow-men to blight ? 

Are you on the side of Jesus, 
With love for fellow-man. 

Or helping on his ruin. 

By your aid to whiskey's clan? 

Are you with the weak and helpless, 
Whom sorrow ,doth oppress ? 

Or do you, by your ballot. 
Still sanction their distress ? 

Are you on the side of safety, 
For the mother, child and wife ? 

Or are you for the hellish drink, 
That causes want and strife ? 

Are you for the pure and moral. 
Who delight in doing good ? 

Or for whiskey, rum and riot — 
For tears and sighs and blood ? 



AND OTHKR POEMS. 91 

Are you for the church and Bible, 

And God's sweet, holy will ? 
Or are you for the wicked laws 

That license men to kill ? 

Can you vote the drunkard's ticket ? 

Then on bended knees, at night 
Ask God to bless your ballot, 

And to keep your vote in sight. 

That in the awful judgment day, 
When called before His throne 
To receive His final sentence, 
** You may reap as you have sown." 

On which side are you, my brother? 

Will you pause awhile and think. 
Ere you slight your God and mercy 

For the devil's fatal drink ? 

Whatever be your answer 

Your vote will surely tell. 
And will count for you in Heaven, 

Or 'gainst you deep in hell. 

Yes, God will read the ballots. 

Each fateful one that 's cast ; 
And those that glorify Him not 

Your soul will help to blast. 



92 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

THE STARS AND STRIPES** 

Behold the flag, above us raised, 

'Tis freedom's emblem true ; 
The flag most grand that floats on land 

Or on the waters blue. 
Supremely blest by nature's God, 

Its stars with glory shine, 
And everywhere its folds appear 

There freedom has a shrine. 

See in its stripes the rainbow hues. 

See in its stars the light, 
Which God has lent and gladly sent 

To make its pathway bright ; 
And see the heaven-kissing winds 

Its lovely form embrace, 
Whilst clouds in air, I may declare. 

Seem jealous of its grace. 

No despot dares to touch its folds, 

No nation dare despise ; 
Its every star and every bar 

Ten million patriots prize, 
Long may it wave, long may it wave. 

Above the land and sea, 
A beacon bright our hearts to light 

With love of liberty. 



* Written in 1896 on the occasion of unfurling- a flag- at one of the 
city public schools. 



AND OTHE^R POKMS. 93 

Let tyrants stand and be dismayed 

Whene'er that flag they see — 
This Union grand was made to stand 

As long as time shall be ; 
And in this land of liberty, 

Made sacred by our dead, 
We 've sworn to God their sacred sod 

No tyrant's foot shall tread. 

And while that banner proudly floats 

O'er freedom's wide domain, 
Let despot's hand or traitor band 

E'er dare that flag to stain ; 
We '11 show the nations of the world 

That we, though late in strife, 
That flag will keep on land and deep. 

Or 'neath it give up life. 

Yes, yes ! that flag we '11 ever keep, 

And proudly tell the story 
How it was born on freedom's morn 

To live in endless glory ; 
And tell of victories grandly won 

Both on the land and sea, 
When storms arose and foreign foes 

Opposed our liberty. 



94 A GALAXY OF SOUTHKRN HKROKS 

No other land 'neath heaven's dome 

Can match our banner here, 
Then ^ive a cheer, long, loud and clear, 

For freedom's banner dear; 
Long may it wave, long may it wave. 

All praise to it be given, 
So bright and fair beyond compare, 

The grandest flag 'neath heaven. 




AND OTHER POEMS. 95 

SHAME, O MY COUNTRY, SHAME!* 

Shame, O my country ! bow thy head, 

Behold what has been done — 
The blackest crime that ever stained 

A land beneath the sun. 
Yea, see with loathing and disgust 

Then turn away thine eyes 
From act so foul e 'en fiends of hell 

With loathing would despise. 

Pull dov/n the flag your fathers reared 

And tear it into shreds ; 
Let craven Anglo-Saxons now 

Deign not to raise their heads. 
Call down the eagle from on high. 

With dunghills let him tread, 
Since blackamoors and dastard knaves 

Have shamed your honored dead. 

Let day-god from his place on high 

Recede and hide his face, 
That darkness may come down and shield 

Our land from such disgrace. 
Pluck every star from heaven's dome. 

Let midnight darkness reign, 
Or Phoenix like, let Justice rise, 

And wipe away the stain. 



* These lines were written after reading- a newspaper report to the 
vCfEeci that the North Carolina Leg-islature, which, at the time, hav- 
iug- a Republicaa majority, refused to adjourn in respect to Washing-ton 
and Lee's anniversary, but by resolution agreed to adjourn in respect 
to Fred Douglas, a tiegra, who had just died. 



96 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKKOES 

Where are the men of Mecklenburg, 

Whose patriotic sires 
Were first on North Carolina's heights 

To kindle freedom's fires? 
How have they fallen now so low, 

What has their pride undone. 
That they permit insult so base 

To Lee and Washington. 

And where, oh, tell me where the sons 

Of that brave Spartan band 
Who fought through hells of battle flame, 

To shield their native land? 
Where are Virginia's sons, oh, where ? 

I hear the heaven's cry. 
That they permit so foul a shame. 

And strike not, though they die. 

And you, ye abolition horde, 

See of your work the trend — 
Black ingrates casting scorn upon 

The names you should defend. 
You now behold the writing plain, 

Of hand "upon the wall; " 
Dishonored, bend and take the cup, 

Yea, drink the bitter gall. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



97 



Your true Caucasian blood deny, 

Your birth-right now disown"; 
Bow down to serpents and to toads, 

Too base to worship stone. 
Become as slimy, crawling worms, 

And grovel in the sod ; 
Too vile and loathsome for a name, 

Ye damned of God and man. 




98 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

COULD I FORGET? 

Could I forget, could I forget 

One fair false face that haunts me still, 
My last few days of waning life 

Might find some joy my heart to thrill ; 
And fondly dreaming, as of yore, 

On scenes of bliss by love made blest, 
I 'd calmly drift along life's shore 

'Till death's oblivion gave me rest. 

But, ah, poor me ! while life shall last, 

While thought and memory keep their throne, 
No fond, sweet dream, no wistful hope, 

Within my breast shall e'er be known ; 
For disappointment and despair, 

That came to me long years ago. 
Have stamped an impress on my heart, 

And filled my soul with bitter woe. 

And now to me it matters not 

What course on earth my steps pursue ; 
No friends I seek, no foes I shun, 

But knowing death is sure and true, 
I bear my lot as I may best, 

And, longing, wait for that sweet day 
When life shall flutter from my breast. 

And death shall steal my soul away. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 99 

RIZPAR 

And Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah, took sackcloth and spread it for 
lier upon the rock, from the beg-inning of the harvest until water 
dropped upon them out of heaven, and suffered neither the birds of the 
air to rest on them by day, nor the beasts of the field by nig-ht.— 
J I Samuel, chapter xxi., verse lo. 

On the hills of Gideon, 

Near Jordan's verdant plain, 
By the hand of God's avengers, 

Were the sons of Rizpah slain ; 
Their forms, denied sepulture, 

Were cast upon the rock 
And left for wild hyenas 

And the ravenous vulture flock. 

But a mother's constant love 

Ends not with loved one's breath ; 
Her constancy and her devotion 

Still increaseth after death. 
And Rizpah, with fidelity. 

On the rock her sackcloth spread. 
And stood alone in mourning 

To guard her cherished dead. 

Throughout the entire season, 

From the harvest till the rain. 
Her sleepless eyes unceasing 

Kept vigil o'er the slain. 
The eagle screamed above her, 

Wild hyenas came to prowl. 
And her heart was often startled 

By the roaming lion's growl. 



LofC. 



100 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROES 

But with courage never faltering 

She stood from day to day, 
A true, unselfish sentinel 

Against the beasts of prey. 
The sunbeams burned upon her, 

She bore the night wind's chill; 
But through day-time and the darkness 

She was ever faithful still. 

The leopard and the tiger, 

When wandering by the spot. 
Beheld her steadfast standing 

And dared to touch her not. 
The hungry wolves came round her, 

And the lynx with burning eye, 
But daunted by her courage, 

Were made to quail and fly. 

And all alone upon the rock, 

Unrelieved by any friend, 
Her long, dark tresses waving 

And disheveled by the wind. 
She kept her faithful vigils 

Till her weeping eyes were red, 
Her sole and only solace — 

A communion with the dead. 



AND OTHEJR P0E;MS. 101 

And all the annals of the world, 

Since the morning dawn of time, 
Affords us no example 

More heroic and sublime 
Than of this poor, mourning mother, 

Keeping vigils night and day, 
To protect her cherished loved ones 

From the birds and beasts of prey. 




102 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTH:eRN HEROKS 

UNCLE MOSE ON INDEPENDENCE DAY* 

My frens an' cullud citizens, 

Wese ersembled here dis morn 
To celebrate de 'casion 

Wen liberty wus born ; 
Wen de young American eagle 

Fust busted fum his shell, 
An' give er whoop fer liberty — 

Er reg'lar rebel yell. 

Dat wus de grandess' 'casion 

Dat eber bless'd de earth, 
An' nations wus astounded 

At de glory ob his birth. 
For neber in de history 

Ob all de ages past 
Wus eber such er nation 

Fum de molds of wisdom cast. 

An* I tell yer, fellow citizens, 

It makes my bosom swell 
Wid proudness w'en I reads erbout 

Or hear dem speakers tell 
Ob how dat unfledged eagle 

Girded on de belt ob right 
An' challenged Englan's lion 

Ter come out and hab er fight. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 103 

So strong had grown dat bludy beast, 

So puff'd up an' so gran', 
He thought hissef de champion 

Ob all de seas an' Ian'. 
Wid scorn he heard an' look'd upon 

Dat Yankee bird so small, 
An' swore dat he wud chaw him up — 

Meat, fedders, bones an' all. 

But dat new-hatched-out Yankee bird, 

Do seeming small an' weak, 
,Wus hatched wid claws as sharp as steel 

An' wid er hole-fas' beak ; 
His eyes wus full ob lightnin' fire. 

His gizzard full ob grit. 
An' like young David wid de sling, 

He noed jess whar ter hit. 

An' too, our Uncle Sam was dere 

Ter back dat eagle game, 
Fer well he knew he cum fum stock 

Dat tyrants cud not tame ; 
An' quickly kiverin' ebry bet 

Dat ole John Bull put down, 
He cried w'en dat ole bluff refused 

Ter bet his thrown an' crown. 

But not because he had er use 

Fer eny such ole plunder. 
He only wished to win de stuff 

Den kick it in ter thunder, 



104 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

Dat ebry Englishman might see 
He did not care er snap 

Fer dere ole royal, high-back chair, 
Nor ole carbuncl'd cap. 

At las', in Massachusetts, 

Dey begun de scrappin' match 
While Injuns stood eround an' yell'd 

Ter see 'em bite an' scratch. 
Roun' after roun' dey fit an' claw'd, 

Returnin' lick for lick. 
An' Englan's lion soon found out 

Dat bird was hard ter pick. 

Dey fit all round ole Lexington, 

An' roun' Dorchester's hight. 
An' plum ercross ole Bunker's hill. 

Still strugglin' in dere might ; 
Till mad wid pain dat lion's roar 

Wus echo'd fur an' wide, 
Fer ebry time he cum in reach 

Dat eagle tore his hide. 

He pull'd his mane, he twis' his tail. 

He fiU'd his eyes wid san' 
Till dat ole lion got so weak 

Dat he cud hardly stand ; 
But still de eagle kept his lick 

Nor seemed de least dismayed, 
Fer he was bound dat beast ter lick 

An' lay him in de shade. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 105 

But by an' by de sponge went up, 

Dat lion tuck'd his tail, 
An' cross'd de broad Atlantic sea 

His losses ter bewail. 
De eagle bold den spread his wing 

An' soar'd erway on high 
Ter roost ermid de circlin' stars 

An guard us wid his eye. 

An' since de early dawn ob time, 

Wen de sky its robes unfurl'd. 
An' de great quire of Heavenly stars 

Sung er welcome ter de world ; 
Since de day-god in his splendor 

Fust look'd down fum on high, 
Dere has neber been er 'casion 

Like dat Fourth day of July. 

Er word now in conclusion, 

Ter yer good white folks out dere — 
Ef any ob yer has a dime 

Dat yer can kindly spare, 
Er ef yer chance ter hab at home 

Sum good ole cast off close, 
Please 'member yer ole cullud fren, 

Yer hones' Uncle Mose. 



106 A GAIvAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

SOME DAY. 

Some day, I know, but know not when, 
My pulsing heart will cease to beat, 

My weary hands will cease their toil ; 
The quick step of my hurrying feet 

Will no more echo in my home. 

Nor loved ones list to hear me come. 

Some day, I know, but know not when, 
The sombre hearse will reach my door, 

And friends with muffled tread will come. 
Whom I, alas ! shall see no more, 

And bear me off to yonder tomb. 

And leave me there in silent gloom. 

Some day my loved ones, left behind. 
Will come to where in death I sleep, 

And, placing flowers upon my grave. 
Will linger there awhile to weep — 

And breathe for me a silent prayer, 

But I shall never know them there. 

Some day, I know, oh ! sad the thought ! 

My friends and loved ones, too, will be 
All cold and pulseless in their tombs, 

And none on earth remembering me 
Will ever speak or hear my name. 
For I must die unknown to fame. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 107 

Some day the stones that mark my grave, 
That tell my date of death and birth 

Will, too, have crumbled into dust, 
And not a vestige here on earth 

Will then be left to tell the tale 

That e'er I crossed life's troubled vale. 

But far beyond each trembling star. 
Now twinkling in the heavenly dome. 

My soul, released from earthly woes. 
Shall mount to my eternal home. 

Where I shall join the Heavenly choir. 

And sing the praise of my Messiah. 




108 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

COURAGE AND AMBITION* 

Ef I was but er tadpole — 
Er tadpole weak and frail — 

I wud strive ter be a frog, 
Do I neber shed my tail. 

An' befo' I 'd be a clam, 
Ailers shet up outer sight, 

I wud bust my shell ersunder, 
Do I perish in de light. 

Yes, I rudder be a flyin' squerel, 
To fly er while and fall, 

Dan be er lazy tarepin 

An' do nothing else but crawl. 

\ An' ef I wusn 't bigger 
Dan er little yaller ant 
I would exercise er courage 
Equel tu de elephant ; 

Fer I hold dat it is noble, 
An' ercordin' ter God's plan, 

Dat man in ebery station 
Shud prove hissef er man. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 109 

Dat only true nobility 

Is by hones* labor wrought, 
An' er crown dat's wuf de wearin' 

Is by mortal neber, bought. 

An' I can 't but hate er croaker, 

Wid his weak an' watery eyes 
Allers turned towards de groun', 

Neber raised toward de skies ; 

Who goes erbout complainin' 

An' bemoanin' ob his fate, 
Because he is er ninny 

Instid ob sumpin' great ; 

Who neber makes an effort 

Ter reach er noble hight, 
But hides his ebery talent 

In his bosom outer sight, 

An' bows in weak submission, 

Like er cringin' yaller houn'. 
An' licks de hand uplifted 

Ter strike him ter de groun'. 

But I glory in de courage 

My convictions to assert. 
An' I '11 strive to be er man, 

Do I 'se but made of dirt. 



110 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HBRO^S 

Fer I no de soul widin me 
Is er libin' part ob God, 

An* will lib in spheres eternal 

When my form has turned to sod. 

An' as I lub ter honor 

Dat God, who in His plan, 

Made me in His image, 
I will strive to be er man. 




AND OTHI$R POEMS. Ill 

YOU ARE MY SWEETHEART YET. 

Full many, many years have past, 

But, oh, how short they 've been, 
Since, darling, you were but a girl, 

And I but just nineteen. 
We loved each other, darling, then, 

Yea, from the day we met, 
And now, though we are growing old, 

You are my sweetheart yet. 

Your little hands you placed in mine, 

While nestling at my side, 
And promised me that you would be 

My own sweet little bride. 
Time swiftly fled, and we were wed. 

The day I '11 ne 'er forget. 
For now, though we are growing old, 

You are my sweetheart yet. 

With faithful hands you 've done your part. 

To make my burden light. 
Have closer clung when cares oppressed 

And sorrows came to blight ; 
So now, when silvery threads I see 

Amid your curls of jet, 
To me your charms they but enhance, 

You are my sweetheart yet. 



112 A GAIvAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROBS 

Though faded are the roses now 

From your fair damask cheek, 
Where little dimples used to romp 

And play at hide and seek, 
Though time has dimmed your lovelit eye, 

Thank God, this is my tret, 
Let come what will, you love me still, 

You are my sweetheart yet. 



CUPID'S AUCTION- 

Behold upon the market stand 

A lovely gem of radiance rare. 
With which no pearl of eastern land 

In point of beauty can compare; 
'Tis brighter than a diamond far. 
More lovely than the fairest star. 
More precious than Arabian gold. 
Its worth in words can ne 'er be told. 

It hath no duplicate on earth. 

And Heaven claims no fairer gem 
Of perfect cast and peerless worth 

Than this endearing diadem ; 
But here it is, and to be sold, 
For highest price, to young or old, 
'Tis true no small bid will suffice ; 
Then let us hear the highest price. 



AND oth:^r pokms. 113 

Deceitful Flattery, first to speak, 

Now makes an offering fraught with pride. 
He compliments the glowing cheek, 

With raven curls on either side ; 
Then adds unto with tenderness 
A praise of form and style of dress. 
And seeks by bid of coxcomb's art 
To gain the prize unto his heart. 

Then Beauty, clothed with faultless style, 

Made offering of his handsome face, 
O 'er which there played a sunny smile. 

And bowed with an artistic grace. 
Which seemed to say in language plain. 
He had no doubt the prize he'd gain ; 
He doubtless thought his face and form 
Would take the precious gem by storm. 

Next pompous Wealth's defiant voice 

Proclaimed a bid of indolence. 
And added gifts of Mammon's choice 

In part, by way of recompense, 
And with base heart and haughty pride 
Thought other bids to set aside ; 
For gold hath such a charming touch. 
Naught else, he thought, avails so much. 



114 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

Then Intellect, with modest grace, 

Announced his bid — a wealth of mind. 
And by the beam upon his face. 

He deemed the prize for him destined ; 
For who, with privilege to choose, 
Could such a bid as his refuse ; 
His wit and wisdom, so well known. 
He thought would make the gem his own. 

But Love, all friendless and alone 

At once upon the scene appears, 
And prays to make his offering known ; 

A bid it is of sighs and tears — 
A yearning of a constant heart, 
Whose constancy would ne 'er depart, 
A manly soul, unknown to fear, 
A faithful arm to do and dare. 

A mind in which he daily nurtures 
Sweet visions of the gem herself, 

Feet which know but paths of virtue, 
Hands clean of all dishonest pelf ; 

All these the bid which Love would give ; 

Now tell me shall his bidding thrive ? 

Oh, if ! oh, if ! you answer yes, 

Long will I Cupid's auction bless. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 115 

TAKE BACK THE LIE! 

Ifiaes suggested on reading- a speech by Gen. P r, Commander-in- 

■Chief of the Grand Army of the Republic, in which he denounced the 
Southern Flagf as an emblem of treason. 

Take back the lie, base, craven wretch, 

Which thy vile lips have dared to speak, 
Such calumny from thy vile tongue. 

But proves that thou art base as weak ; 
From coward lips such venom vile, 

Can only serve to wake disgust 
In hearts of all true, noble men, 

Who loathe such vipers of the dust. 

Then take it back, thou snarling cur, 

Insult not with thy lying breath 
That ensign of a noble host 

Now tenting in their camps of death ; 
Nor shouldst thou dare^with lying tongue, 

To slander men whose dauntless might 
Made for that flag a name and place — 

The grandest on fame's utmost height. 

Thine is the craven"! coward's course. 

Hyena-like that dares to tread, 
And with thy foul polluting breath, 

Profanes the turf that hides our dead ; 
No faintest ray, nor spark of truth, 

Doth to thy lying tongue give pause ; 
Else hadst thou not, poor, slimy worm, 

Have dared to slander such a cause. 



116 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

How worse than fool, thou poltroon knave, 

To basely lie without a reason — 
To let thy lying words imply 

That our just cause was one of treason. 
The banner that thou darest malign 

Shall live through never-ending glory. 
Whilst all such hissing toads as thou 

Shall be unknown in song or story. 

What valiant hero of the blue. 

Who faced our warriors in the fray, 
But knows that only patriots true, 

E'er fought so valiantly as they ; 
And knows, too, that no traitor band. 

In treason's cause was ever fired 
To such sublimely daring deeds 

As our Confederate hosts inspired. 

Then hush, yea, hush thy putrid mouth, 

Go kill thyself, thy meed to gain ; 
Less sinned had Ananias, when 

God numbered him among the slain ; 
Nor such a crime since Judas's sin 

Hath ever damned with such just reason. 
As that thou laidst upon thy soul 

In that foul, lying charge of Treason. 



AND OTHld^R POEMS. 117 

MAN WAS MADE FOR WOK 

Go search the world from pole to pole, 

And vie\v mankind in every state; 
You '11 never find a living soul — 

What 'er his land, what 'er his fate — 
Who has not felt within his breast 

The tides of sorrow ebb and flow, 
And has not felt, when care oppress'd, 

That mortal man was made for woe. 

The loving swain in lonely bower 

In fondness burns with passion's flame ; 
Each budding bloom and blushing flower 

Reminds him of his cherished dame. 
But, when a few short years have fled 

His youthful cheek has lost its glow, 
In tears of disappointment shed. 

He learns that man was made for woe. 

And he, the pampered man of pride. 

With hoarded wealth of precious ore, 
With teeming acres, broad and wide, 

Who daily scorns the weak and poor, 
Will, when his frame with age is bent. 

And every step 's a painful throe. 
In his cold heart his pride repent. 

And murmur, " man was made for woe." 



118 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

The royal king and lord of state, 

Flushed with men's homage and with fame, 
May for a while forget that fate 

Has made all human kind the same ; 
But, 'ere for them life's sun shall sink, 

A Marah's draught for them must flow. 
And, as they quaff the bitter drink. 

Must learn that man was made for woe. 

Vain is the Bacchanalian cup, 

And vain is worldly wealth and fame ; 
The cup of sorrow all must sup. 

In differing phase, but all the same. 
For some must burn 'neath tropic sun. 

Some perish in the arctic snow, 
And some have treasures, some have none. 

But all must have some bitter woe. 

Such is the destiny of man, 

And it is just as we shall find, 
A part of the Creator's plan 

To teach us to be good and kind. 
To succor those who need our care, 

And to withhold each cruel blow ; 
For as we share a brother's care 

So shall we lessen our woe. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 119 

SERMON BY UNCLE MOSE. 

No. 2. 

My belubbed cullud brudders, 

Ize gwine ter preach ter day, 
An' I hopes ter hab attention 

Ter what Ise gwine ter say. 
I know dere's room for 'provement 

In ebery sinner's hart, 
An' my reason fur so thinkin' 

I will now to you impart. 

First, de selfishness ob nater 

Keeps de hart from gitten clean ; 
It blinds de eyes of conscience. 

An' makes us over-mean ; 
It puts er man ter thinkin' 

Dat he 's better dan de best. 
An' like a tyrant robber. 

Steals de goodness from his breast. 

An' den dere is er kind er pride 

Dat steals into de brain 
An' robs er man ob reason, 

An' makes him weak an' vain ; 
An' when er man has got it, 

He is saddled mity well 
Fur de debil den ter mount him 

An' ter ride him down ter hell. 



120 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

Den dere's anudder passion, 

An' de Scripter calls it lust, 
An' if any ob you'se got it 

You is hardly fit ter trust. 
'Tis de pizen ob de sarpent, 

So polutin' ter de soul, 
Dat de meanness ob its venom 

De debil would extole. 

An' den de sin ob appetite. 

Since ob dat I cum ter think. 
It 's de debil's own invension 

When it leads er man ter drink ; 
It destroys all his conscience, 

Puts er blind upon his eyes 
An' empties him ob character, 

An' fills him up wid lies. 

A word now in conclusion 

Ob what Ise got ter say, 
A preacher cannot lib on wind, 

He orter hab his pay. 
So while you hunt yer nickles 

An' we pass eround de hat, 
Please see dey isn 't counterfits. 

Be sho you look ter dat. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 121 

THE RATIONALE OF SIN* 

(A reply to Rev. F. J. E.'s " First Cause of Woe.") 

How long shall the fables 

Of mythology last, 
Defaming Jehovah 

And his glories o 'ercast ? 
O, dark superstition ! 

Thou shadow of night, 
How long wilt thou linger, 

Man's reason to blight ? 
How long shall the falsehood 

That a snake of the sod 
By men be acknowledged 

As more subtle than God ? 
How long shall the darkness 

Of ignorance prevail 
And the foul tongue of slander 

God's wisdom assail ? 

Did the great living God, 

Whose hands did create 
This world we inhabit, 

And ten thousand more great, 
Whose will is but nature. 

Supreme of all law. 
And whose mind from the first 

All the future foresaw, 



122 A GAIvAXY OF SOUTHERN H^ROKS 

Make man pure and holy — 

From all sin pure and bright — 
And ordain that no sin 

Should his prospects e' er blight ; 
Then make a vile serpent 

And into him instill 
The vile power to break 

And defy his own will ? 

Oh, believe it not so — 

'Tis false and untrue — 
For God, the all-wise. 

Would not such folly do. 
Yea, God is all wisdom, 

And when he made man 
He made him, no doubt. 

On a rational plan. 
He endowed him with sense, 

With conscience and might. 
And made him free agent, 

To do wrong or do right ; 
For without the extremes 

Of evil and good. 
How could he serve God 

As really he should ? 

Had there never been sin 
From which to abstain, 

All conscience and reason 
Were but attributes vain ; 



AND OTHER POEMS. 123 

And my conscience and reason, 

Inherit from birth, 
I would not surrender 

For all fables on earth. 
And I '11 tell you just here, 

As I have told you before, 
To God, in our wisdom, 

We should bow and adore. 
Then never, oh never. 

Defame thy great God 
By making him less 

Than a worm of the sod. 

To thee He gave conscience, 

A heart and a brain, 
And thou shouldst not bury 

Thy talents in vain. 
Look around, look aloft. 

Let your reason be free ; 
Behold his great works 

On the land and the sea ; 
See mountains and rivers. 

Volcanoes and seas. 
Great oceans and lakes 

And forests of trees ; 
Then list to the thunder 

And the lightning's wild crash ; 
Hear the roar from the shore 

Where the tempest waves dash ; 



124 A G\I,AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

Then turn thy gaze upward 

To the great arching sky 
And view thousands of worlds 

That bedazzle the eye — 
Each rolling in splendor 

Through infinite space, 
Controlled in their movements 

Or held in their place 
By the hands of Jehovah, 

Whose will they obey. 
And whose power and greatness. 

Can never decay. 
Then reflect if you will. 

And believe, if you can, 
That this great supreme God 

Ever formed him a plan 
And had not the will 

And the power to make 
That plan all secure 

From the lies of the snake. 




AND OTHER POBMS. 125 

POLICY. 

Talk not to me of policy, 

Of what I should or shouldn 't do, 
For, steadfast to my conscience, 

I my course will still pursue. 
Let judgment shape my actions 

And my conscience be my guide. 
For I 'd rather face a frowning world 

Than yield my manly pride. 

My religion and my politics 

May I never seek to hide ; 
Let me steer with honest purpose 

Though I stem against the tide. 
And fettered not by policy, 

By precept nor advice, 
I '11 bravely meet my destiny. 

Though I plunge a precipice. 

No, I will not be a puppet 

To any servile course. 
Though bribed by wealth and laurels 

And urged by tyrant force. 
But my deep and clear convictions 

Shall ever serve to sway, 
And, with conscience for my shield, 

Only God will I obey. 



126 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROE)S 

Then away with all your policy, 

'Tis dissembling and deceit — 
A smiling lie upon the lip — 

A vain, pretending cheat. 
'Tis born of fraud and cowardice. 

No truth is in its name. 
And I 'd rather lose this heart of mine 

Than to sear it with its shame. 

Yes, I loathe and scorn the hypocrite, 

Whose life's a living lie ; 
Who smooths his actions and his speech 

With the oil of policy, 
Who stoops to public favor 

At every beck and nod. 
And brings disgrace upon the form 

Made in image of my God. 




AND OTHER POEMS. 127 

SHAMS AND SHACKS. 

Mankind is not just what it seems, 
This world is half made up of shams, 

Some men as silent sages pose 
Who are at best but stupid clams. 

Some babbling tongues are never still, 

Misquoting thoughts of wiser men, 
i\.nd in their self-esteem suppose 

That they are what they 've never been. 

Some noble hearts as ever beat 

Pulsate in breasts of rugged mold. 
Whilst broadcloth often wraps the knave 

Whose sins and crimes are never told. 

Some glorious poets live and die, 

And ne'er to wealth and fame are known, 

Whilst fools are flattered to the sky 
For genius that is not their own. 

Yes, more than half mankind are fools, 
Hence knaves and frauds find easy sailing, 

To hug a sham and be humbugged 
Is with the mass a common faiUng. 

I 've known a rum-besotted quack. 

High in the heahng arts to pass, 
Whose intellect was scarce above 

The instincts of a stupid ass. 



128 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

And oft a tailless ape we see 

Whose only brain is brazen cheek, 

High-seated on judicial bench 

To judge the fools who justice seek. 

Then sometimes, too, in sacred desk 
A wolf we find in sheep's attire, 

Too cowardly to preach the truth. 
But preaching hell without a fire. 

And so it goes throughout the world. 

Hypocrisy is ruling still, 
A man is boosted going up. 

And kicked when coming down the hill. 

Angelic woman, sweet and pure, 
When wedded to a worthless clown, 

By gravity of social laws, 

Is to his level anchored down. 

But sometimes wilful, wicked wives. 

Make noblest husbands hump and hustle. 

And he 's a fool who thinks to find 
An angel wrapped with every bustle. 




AND OTHKR POEMS. 129 

COOSA RIVER* 

Roll on, O gentle Coosa, 

Thou art dearer far to me 
Than all the other waters 

That flow into the sea. 
From thy early fountain source, 

'Mid the Georgia mountains grand, 
Down through old Alabama 

To the ocean's pearly strand. 
Thou art peerless in thy beauty, 

Thou art ever fair and bright. 
And everywhere I view thee 

There is gladness in the sight. 

What memories, sweet and tender, 

Of my whilom happy days, 
Now fill my heart with rapture 

When 'er on thee I gaze. 
Those happy days of boyhood, 

That can bless me never more. 
Which spent with boon companions 

In sporting on thy shore ; 
And, oh, what royal pleasure 

'Twas to plunge into thy tide 
And, Hke the wild aquatic birds. 

On the placid bosom glide. 



130 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

Ah, well do I remember 

One blissful summer night, 
When moon and stars of heaven 

Made thy crystal waters bright, 
Of floating down thy current, 

Borne onward by thy tide, 
In sweetest little shallop, 

With fair Inez by my side ; 
When I told her of my love, 

As I clasped her to my breast. 
And, in answer to my wooing. 

Heard her love for me confest. 

Then again upon thy borders 

On a lovely day in May, 
With flowers blooming 'round us 

And the birds all singing gay. 
How I led off in the dance. 

With a merry, happy train, 
Whirling in a giddy waltz 

With blithsome Kitty Dane, 
The fairest little fairy. 

To my bosom firmly prest, 
And felt her heart responding 

To the throbbing in my breast. 



AND OTHKE POBMS. 131 

Then 'neath the beech and maples 

That shade thy grassy shore, 
Near the village of Coloma, 

In the halcyon days of yore, 
Where I was wont to wonder 

To view thy lovely sheen. 
Hand in hand with pretty Lizzie, 

The little village queen. 
And with her there to angle, 

With hooks oft baited not, 
All forgetful of the fishing, 

So contented with our lot. 

Then drifting, gently drifting, 

Adown thy placid stream. 
Borne onward to Aurora 

In my retrospective dream, 
I meet once more the loved ones. 

Both friends and kindred dear. 
And view once more the prospect 

That was wont my heart to cheer. 
And see once more around me 

Those winsome girls and boys 
Who made that humble village 

The sweet Eden of my joys. 



132 A GAIyAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

But roll on, noble river, 

My retrospect is vain. 
Whilst thou shalt flow forever, 

I shall never feel again 
The rapture and the ecstacy, 

And charms without alloy, 
That blest me in those sunny days 

When I was yet a boy, 
Sporting on thy bosom, 

And romping on thy shore. 
With precious friends and loved ones, 

In those happy days of yore. 




AND OTHKR POKMS. 133 

A SPRING CANT-OH. 

I do not claim to be a saint, 

Filled with amazing grace, 
Nor boast of sanctifying love 

For all the human race : 
But like most other mortals be 

That 's born for wearing pants, 
I am full to overflowing 

With a great many can 'ts. 

I can 't help feeling when I sit 

In the temple of the Lord 
And listen to a preacher's tongue, 

Whose every studied word 
Is meant to gain a compliment 

From some dudine in her pew, 
That he 's a sorter hypocrite; 

I can 't, oh, can you ? 

And when I pay my dollar cash 

For a seat in the parquet. 
And go with great anxiety 

To hear and see the play. 
And have to sit behind a hat 

That hides the stage from view, 
1 can 't help feeling cross as sin ; 

I can 't, oh, can you? 



134 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

And when I hear a fellow pray, 
** Lord let Thy kingdom come," 
And see him straightway cast his vote 

For the licensed sale of rum, 
I guess he means just what he prays 

And votes to prove it true, 
But somehow I can 't see the point ;, 

I can 't, oh, can you ? 

And when I 'm told the human race 

Is all from Adam's seed. 
That kinkey-headed coons and I 

Are from one common breed, 
I think that apes and darn baboons 

Must be my brothers, too; 
But then I can *t believe the tale ; 

I can 't, oh, can you ? 

'Tis said that wicked Birmingham 

Is not a friend to grace ; 
That every dweller in its bounds 

Is heading for that place 
Where water-works are never known 

And ice supplies are scant ; 
But I don 't think it 's wholly true, 

I can 't, oh, I can 't. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 



135 



I 'm also told that demagogues 

Have caught the hayseed vote ; 
Are piloting and steering, too, 

The new Alliance boat ; 
That they are going to take the earth 

And everything in view, 
But I don 't hardly think they will ; 

I can 't, oh, can you ? 




136 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

CLEOPATRA. 



AN IMITATION. 



Like the glorious lotus blossoms, 

Drifting on the placid Nile, 
My spirit soon on Charon's stream 

Shall swiftly glide from portals vile. 
Iris ! Charmian ! heed me quickly : 

Twine my tresses o'er my brow, 
Bring my crown and robe me swiftly, 

Antony awaits me now. 

From the throne of realms supernal, 

Where forever he must reign, 
Antony, my noble hero. 

Calls me to his arms again. 
Robe me as befits my station, 

Scent me with the fragrant balm, 
Fill with wine my silver chalice. 

My poor weary heart to calm. 

Over Egypt's plains and deserts 

Caesar's triumph shall be vain ; 
Antony, to mock his victory. 

With his sword himself hath slain, 
And Cleopatra's pride unbending, 

Spurns his captive queen to be — 
Nurtured on the throne of freedom, 

Egypt's queen will e'er be free. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 137 

What to me is fame and glory, 

What to me is crown or throne, 
Since my glorious lord and lover 

On Angel Argus' wings hath flown. 
Oh, the thought ! I can not bear it ! 

In dreams I hearken to his call. 
And, waking meet not his caresses ; 

My soul is turned to bitter gall. 

See how firm and true my courage. 

To my breast I press the asp, 
And, remembering thee, my lover. 

Smile upon his deadly clasp. 
Swiftly now the subtle poison 

Wends its way through every vein ; 
Noble hero, demi-Atlas, 

I will soon be thine again. 

Though thy wrecked and shattered galleys 
Strew the beech on Actium's shore, 

Though thy eagle-crested warriors 
** Bear thy banners high no more " ; 

Though thy fame of rising splendor 
O'er the world no more may shine, 

Thou hast won a grander victory — 
Cleopatra's heart is thine. 

'Twas for thy *' Star-eyed Egyptian" 
Thou didst fling a world away — 

Fame and glory, throne and power. 
Bartered for her love a day ? 



138 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

Thou, the mighty, great triumvir 
Whom great Caesar feared to meet, 

Rome beheld an humble subject 
Suppliant at a woman's feet. 

But think not of thy fair Octavia 

Weeping in her widowed home, 
For 'twas God our loves united, 

Not the shallow forms of Rome, 
And it may be in the future, 

Touched by Time's soft, soothing art. 
The blow will be by her forgotten 

And love again revive her heart. 

"Though the world for this condemn thee," 

Thou wert grand to spurn its hate ; 
God ne'er made thy matchless pission 

But to find in me its mate. 
And I, too, can face its frowning. 

Gladly on thy breast to lie, 
And, when sable death divides us. 

Gladly for thy love to die. 

Let my courage prove my passion 

Whilst the asp now drains my breath, 
And, with crown and queenly vesture, 

I dare to follow thee in death. 
Haste to meet me at the river. 

Haste ! oh, haste ! to meet thy bride,. 
Stretch thine arms and guide me safely 

O'er the dark and chilling tide. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



139^ 



Dim and dark grows all around me, 

Sense and sight are failing fast ; 
Never love like mine was fettered — 

Death shall free me now at last. 
Hark ! I grope in Stygian darkness ; 

Come, fair Iris, bear me home. 
Anthony ! my love, my hero, 

Stretch thine arms, I come ! I come ! 




140 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

THE DEATH OF CHEATHAM. 

The grand old soldier, Cheatham, 

Sat dying in his chair, 
And visions of the fitful past 

Came crowding on him there. 

He saw once more the legions 
And clans of mustering men, 

And heard once more the tumult 
Of war's wild, furious din. 

He heard the trump and the cannon's roar, 

The musket's deadly rattle ; 
The saber's clash, the yells and groans 

And rush of men in battle. 

He saw the rising clouds of smoke, 
He heard the war-steeds neigh, 

And sniffed upon the sulphurous breeze 
The distant, deadly fray. 

And then he heard the double-quick 

Of soldiers hurrying by. 
And saw, perchance, his battle flag 

Borne bravely still on high. 

And as he seemed to hear and see 

Once more the battle storm. 
And felt within his aged veins 

His life-blood mounting warm. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 141 

There woke within his martial breast 

Once more the kindhug flame 
That nerves the patriot's heart and hand 

To daring deeds of fame. 

His chivalrous soul unyielding then 

To sickness and to pain, 
Broke forth in that wild dream of death 

To lead hts troops again. 

^' Bring me my horse, my horse," he cried, 

The battle sounding nearer, 
" I 'm going to the front," he said. 

His wife, oh, who can cheer her! 



AiaJi^t&'.A.:.^ ttS^biJi^Aiai^ 



She caught his now fast drooping head. 

She saw his glazing eye ; 
He'd gone to join the great command 

Of hosts beyond the sky. 




142 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

LINES SENT WITH A BOQUET* 

Go ! ye sweet and gentle flowers, 

To her, your queen, more fair than ye, 

And speak with your celestial powers, 
And bid her kindly think of me. 

With your fair charms entrance her eyes, 
And bless her with your sweet perfume ; 

And when in dreaming sleep she lies, 
Keep silent vigils in her room. 

And if by dreams disturbed in mind 
In whispers she should speak of me, 

Send back your spirits on the wind 
And tell me what her dreamings be. 

And, oh, what rapture 'twill impart. 
If she but softly breathe my name ; 

Twill cheer my poor, despairing heart, 
And soothe my love's consuming flame. 

Yes, go, fair messengers so pure. 

And speak with all your emblems true ; 

With fragrant charms her heart assure 
That I my sacred vows renew. 

And if she but interpret right 

The message that your emblems tell, 

'T will make her gentle eyes grow bright. 
And all her cruel doubts dispel. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 143 

GORDON- 

(Written during- his campaigru for Governor.) 

Ye Southern sons of valiant sires, 

Ye comrades of the knight, 
Whose name your country's heart inspires 

With glory and delight ; 
Behold him stand before us all, 

A hero without stain, 
Calling us with honest call, 

And shall he call in vain ? 

Are we to dumb forgetfulness 

So quickly fallen prey 
That all his gallant deeds for us 

Like dreams have passed away ? 
Did he not for us shed his blood, 

When souls of men were tried ? 
And is there anything too good 

To be to him denied ? 

No, no ! thank God, in Southern breasts 

Ingratitude dwells not ; 
And he who once our love possest 

Shall never be forgot. 
Old Shenandoah may cease to roll, 

Virginia's mountains fall ; 
But Gordon's name on freedom's scroll, 

No time shall e'er appall. 



144 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

Go mark ye on his martial cheek 

That glorious diadem, 
That doth to us more loudly speak 

Than all the tongues of men. 
He is our Chevalier Bayard, 

Our more than Marshal Ney ; 
A patriot praised by every bard, 

**The right-hand man of Lee." 

And see upon the minaret 

Of fame's eternal height. 
His name and fame in glory set 

To shine forever bright. 
Then let us rally round our chief, 

Our leader grand and great, 
'Till all his foes are put to grief, 

And he be chief of state. 




AND OTHER POKMS. 145 

PEPPER SAUCE* 

Times now ain *t like they used to be, 

There 's change in everything ; 
Even the dollars of our daddies 

Have lost their old-time ring. 

Our sugar now is mixed with sand, 

Of paper shoes are made ; 
There 's fraud in measures and in weights, 

In every line of trade. 

The farmer used to own his land 

And lived on all the best, 
But now the merchant owns the farm 

With its smoke-house in the West. 

No mortgage clause was on the notes 

Which our daddies used to pay. 
But now they bind up everything, 

From crops to dinner tray. 

We used to have good, honest laws — 

Laws made for honest men, 
But now our code's so full of flaws 

It 's hardly worth a pin. 

Few honest statesmen can we find. 

The demagogue now rules. 
And everywhere in halls of state 

We meet with knaves and fools. 

10 



146 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

With homestead laws they 've gulled the poor, 
And exemption statutes framed, 

'Till thievery they Ve legalized. 
And justice made ashamed. 

The honest poor man's credit's gone, 

His word ain 't worth a mote. 
And now to get his wife a shroud 

He must sign a mortgage note. 




AND OTHKR POKMS. 147 

THE ARMY OF TEMPERANCE. 

The banner of temperance now widely unfurled 
Gives cheer to the nation and hope to the world. 
Its bright gleaming folds lend a glow to the sky, 
And thousands have sworn to support it or die ; 
And whilst the Creator remains on His throne 
Its fall or dishonor shall never be known. 
Raised by oppression in the cause of the right, 
All lovers of justice will 'neath it unite ; 
For wherever the presence of Bacchus hath been 
Grim death and despair are there to be seen ; 
Men he has murdered by millions untold. 
Destroying their souls 'ere their bodies were cold ; 
Bright homes he hath plundered of comfort and 

wealth, 
Made oceans of tears by destruction to health. 
The kind, loving father has changed to a fiend, 
The wife from her husband's affections hath weaned, 
The love of the husband has changed into strife. 
Both blasting the love and the hopes of his wife. 
'Tvvixt brother and brother raised barriers of hate ; 
The orphan has left unprotected to fate; 
The widow and children hath robbed of their bread. 
And left them to perish with hunger — unfed. 
Great minds he hath robbed of wisdom and reason, 
He has bribed the assassin and paid for arch-treason, 
In the altars of God he hath found himself place. 
And left there the traces of shame and disgrace. 



148 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

Sweet maidenly virtue hath robbed of its prize, 
And done enough sin to have blackened the skies. 
Great kingdoms hath conquered, and banners hath 

furled, 
And spotted with graveyards the face of the world, 
He hath built on the earth the devil a throne, 
And consigned those to hell whom Heaven should 

own. 
Yes, these are the things which Bacchus hath done, 
But soon, thanks to God, his dark course will be run. 
Yes, mark me well now, the bright day's near at 

hand 
When the foul curse of rum shall be swept from the 

land ; 
Throughout the wide world, from anear and afar, 
The armies of temperance are gathering for war. 
Justice and virtue, truth, honor and right. 
United with temperance have joined in the fight, 
And like the swift avalanche gath'ring in force. 
Overleaping the obstructions that lie in its course ; 
And like the great tides of the ocean in storm, 
Uprising in might like mountains in form, 
Will come the grand army with banners all bright 
To battle for temperance, for God and the right. 
No loud booming of guns will sound in their wake. 
For they come not the lives of mortals to take ; 
No steel 111 their hands will be reddened with blood. 
No ruins mark places where houses have stood. 



AND OTHEJR POEMS. 149 

No wails from the widowed and orphaned you '11 

hear, 
No red mangled corpse will be seen on its bier, 
No tramping of steed nor wild clashing of steel 
Will be heard when these armies their presence 

reveal ; * 
But softly as glides the bright clouds overhead, 
And silent as voices which speak from the dead, 
Will come this great army, majestic in might. 
Bearing down on the wrong, defending the right. 
No loud beating drums, nor shrill screaming fife, 
Shall jar on the ear, giving token of strife ; 
But a calmness like that of a lake in a cave 
And a peace undisturbed as the peace of the grave, 
Shall reign o'er the land, and the country will seem 
Like heavenly paradise viewed in a dream. 
The army is moving and soon will be here, 
Even now in the distance its columns appear. 
See, the hovering clouds which have darkened the 

sky. 
Recede and give light as the army draws nigh. 
Yes, mark you how firmly and grandly doth move 
This army approaching with banners of love; 
'Tis coming, victorious, to claim its dominion, 
'Tis the army of temperance — Public Opinion. 



150 A GAIvAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

OH, BLESSED BE THE LAND* 

Oh, blest be the land, my own native land, 

The Southland so gracious and fair. 
Beneath the broad sky of God's firmament high, 

There's no other land to compare. 

And I '11 sing to-day with soul in my song. 

For my heart is melting with love. 
For the dear old land so glorious and grand. 

So blessed by Jehovah above. 

Not a star that burns in the heavenly dome, 
But shines with a radiance more rare. 

When poising in space above the fair face 
Of the South so gracious and fair. 

No rivers, no vales, no mountains so grand, 

No manhood so worthy to prize, 
Elsewhere can be found in all the world round. 

As here 'neath our own sunny skies. 

And, oh, the sweet charm, the chief of all charms. 
Which hallows, endears and enshrines 

In the hearts of mankind, — thy women refined. 
The fairest on whom the sun shines. 

Then to these virgins, our own vestals fair. 

Be assigned the duty to keep 
Bright glowing the flame of undying fame. 

Of those for whom we still weep. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 151 

But I '11 sing not now in my sad refrain, 

Of wrongs that our country beset, 
But lifting my eyes I '11 sing to the skies, 

Of those whom we '11 never forget. 

And oh ! that my muse could aid me to sing, 

With a power potential to prove. 
In grandeur of song, the dues that belong, 

To heroes so worthy of love. 

From depths of my heart, with soul in each line, 

I'd sing in such rapturous strain. 
My music would move the angels above, 

To catch and repeat the refrain. 

I'd sing of Davis, our faithful old chief. 
As noble and pure as ever pressed sod. 

Ne'er mortal more grand was born to command. 
Or to walk in the image of God. 

And I'd sing of Lee, the matchless, superb. 

Of stature and courage sublime, 
A model of man, made after God's plan. 

To endure through ages of time. 

O ! yes, I would sing as never man sung. 

In a grand and rapturous song, 
The praise of our dead who suffered and bled. 

And who died opposing the wrong. 



152 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHKRN HEROKS 

But alas, my poor muse, too impotent, weak, 

In me to enkindle the flame 
Of heavenly fire, with which to inspire 

A song half worthy their fame. 

Then since I must strive unaided by muse, 

My harp must in silence remain, 
My song be unsung, for never my tongue. 

Can wake so lofty a strain. 

But while on its throne my reason remains, 

I can but remember the past, 
When our glorious braves went down to their graves, 

Each true to his flag to the last. 

Nor can I forget, no never forget, 

Their struggles heroic tho' vain, 
How bravely they stood and shed their life's blood. 

Their own righteous cause to maintain. 

But a bard shall yet in the future arise. 

With genius from God to portray. 
In measures sublime, eternal as time, 

And this of our dead he will say : 

That never before nor since on the earth. 
Have mortals who yearned to be free, 

E'er made such a fight for God and the right, 
As made by the armies of Lee. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 153 

Joe Johnston, and Hood, great Jackson, and Bragg, 
John Morgan, brave Pickett, and Hill, 

He'll mention by name, and his epic will flame, 
Till earth with their glory shall thrill. 

Of these and a thousand other great names 

Will the bard most gloriously sing. 
And his wondrous song the stars will prolong 

Till heaven with music shall ring. 

And when he shall sing of the rank and file. 

The bravest that ever had birth. 
May God lend him aid, to sing undismayed, 

Till his song encircles the earth. 

Till angels on high shall hear and repeat 

That song the sweetest in heaven. 
Yes, sing and re-sing till heaven shall ring — 

Till God's own plaudits be given. 




154 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

TO-MORROW. 

To-morrow, to-morrow, 

Alas, for poor me! 
1 've been waiting so long 

The morrow to see 
That would bring me surcease 

From sorrow and care, 
And ease my poor heart 

Of the pain that is there. 

But, oh, the to-morrow 

For which I have sighed, 
I fear will ne'er come 

Till the fountains are dried 
That now give a vent 

To my anguish and woe. 
For my only nepenthe 

Is when my tears flow. 

All the friendship I 've known 

Was sordid and base. 
All the love I have sought 

Was a butter-fly chase ; 
When the prize I had seized 

The attraction had fled. 
And my poor, hungry heart 

On emptiness fed. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 155 

All the hopes of my youth, 

My castles in air, 
Built for the morrow, 

So brilliant and fair, 
Have mouldered in ruins, 

Have gone to decay, 
And to-morrow so bright 

Is still far away. 

The dream of to-morrow — 

How false was the dream — 
That to-morrow would come 

With a bright sunny beam, 
Dispelling the shadows 

That darken my life. 
And light up my soul, 

Now gloomy with strife. 

Yea, false was the dream. 

Each day is the same. 
The morning but dawns 

To rekindle the flame 
Of longing for pleasures 

I never can know. 
Then wanes into darkness 

And leaves me in woe. 



156 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

But to-morrow will come, 

Oh, welcome the day. 
When my heart shall be still 

Beneath the cold clay ; 
My pulseless, pale hands 

Across my cold breast, 
My soul with its God, 

My body at rest. 



A HUNTER'S WISH. 

My former home and friends I 've left, 

And sought the forest's rugged wild, 
Whose primeval grandeur as yet 

The hand of man hath not defiled ; 
And though it is 'mid scenes like these 

That I have always loved to dwell, 
And though there's much to please me here, 

I still have cares I can't dispel. 

For when upon the mountain's top 

I stand with rapt, enchanted gaze, 
On lovely scenes which meet my view, 

Bathed in the distant mellow haze. 
Within my heart, so long and sad, 

I feel a restless, longing care. 
For one on whom my soul is set 

Is not with me the scene to share. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 157 

And when beside the flowing stream, 

To Undine's song I bend my ear, 
And lightly tread the mossy bank, 

That sweet, low murmuring song to hear ; 
'Tis then I feel how sad it is 

To waste upon the listless air 
So much of nature's melody, 

And she not there the song to share. 

And when engaged in flying chase, 

Excitement thrills my panting breast, 
And climbing up the mountain's side, 

I pause awhile to watch and rest, 
And see the sta^ and hounds go by. 

As if in flight of wild despair. 
There comes, amid my wildest thoughts, 

A v/ish that she the scene might share. 

And when the sable shades of night 

Have fallen over hills and plains, 
Whilst tired nature takes its rest. 

And deep, unbroken silence reigns, 
'Tis then, in gloominess of mfnd, 

I think of her so bright and fair. 
And from my heart there steals a wish 

That she my loneliness might share. 



158 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

NOT FOR BREAD ALONE* 

(Response to F. L. Stanton's " Writing for Bread.") 

What, tho' you sit and silent write 
Amid the still and gloom of night, 
Where feebly flickers, faintly falls, 
The lamp's dim Hght on barren walls ; 
Bend not in melancholy mood. 
Nor think of thy surroundings rude, 
For every care that haunts thee now, 
And casts its shadows o'er thy brow. 
Shall melt like mists and roll away 
And thou shalt see a brighter day. 

But think not that you sit alone ; 
Some glorious muse — all thine own. 
Is ever with thee — with her wand 
To touch thy pen and guide thy hand 
And make thine each and every line 
With inspiration's glories shine, 
And brightly guild thine every page. 
Which, brightening with each coming age, 
Shall yield thee more than bread alone — 
Undying fame — and sculptured stone. 

This world is not an empty dream, 
Howe'er deceptive life may seem ; 
But rich and wide its fields are spread 
For those who toil for fame and bread. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 159 

And love and tenderness and worth, 
Like flowers that spring from mother earth, 
Will ever bloom and bud and twine 
Around the poet's sacred shrine, 
And thy sweet song, in sadness sung. 
Shall live when death has stilled thy tongue. 

Thy quick'ning breast by misery wrung 
Has given the charm to songs you've sung ; 
For in thy sad and plaintiff strain, 
Thou hast but voiced each brother's pain 
Who daily strives for daily bread 
And feels, in famished heart unfed, 
That subtle longing and unrest 
Which all have felt but ne'er expressed ; 
And while with you our tears we shed, 
We '11 give you love as well as bread. 

Then rouse thee, brother, raise thy head ; 
Thy path, though not with roses spread. 
Is not more rough than all must tread 
Who strive and toil to earn their bread. 
Alone in labor can be found 
The priceless boon of great renown ; 
Then mourn not that thy genius bright 
Must burn apace with lamp at night. 
For by its pale and flickering flame 
'Twill light you on to deathless fame. 



160 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

And when thy pen is laid to rest — 
The pen which oft thy hand hath pressed, 
(With burning heart and aching head — 
And thou art numbered with the dead) — 
Thy genius then shall claim its meed, 
Thy soul on food of gods shall feed 
And thou shalt taste the nectar wine 
That gods prepare for souls like thine, 
And in Elysian regions blest 
Thy soul shall have eternal rest. 




AND OTHER POEMS. 161 

JEFFERSON DAVIS-* 

With love, almost idolatry, 

I honor and revere 
That grand old Southern patriot 

Who stands without a peer 
The grandest chieftain of the age, 

Tho' clouded by defeat, 
Tlie one true heart that never quailed 

Nor bowed at victor's feet. 

His was the noblest, truest hand 

That e'er held helm of state, 
And tho' by war's wild storms oppressed, 

He bravely met his fate. 
Nor prison walls nor victor's chain 

Could e'er his heart subdue ; 
To will of God alone he bowed, 

The truest of the true. 

I love him for his constancy, 

And glory in his fame; 
Compared with all his enemies. 

He puts their best to shame. 
He is the grandest, noblest type 

Of all our chivalry, 
And for himself or Winnie's sake 
** I 'd lay me down and die." 



* Written a few years prior to his death. 
11 



162 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEJROKS 



THERE IS NO GOD. (?) 

The fool hath said there is no God, 

But how should that fool know, 
Unless all space he had explored. 

In nature high and low. 
For if there be one spot or space 

Unknown in worlds or air, 
He cannot prove there is no God, 

For may not God be there ? 

To know, indeed, there is no God 

All force that fool must know. 
The power that sends the cyclones forth, 

And hurls the lightning's blow; 
For all that he or I can tell, 

Of whence they had their source. 
Amounts to nothing but a guess. 

And God may be that force. 

Then if he knows all space and force. 

Himself a God must be. 
For none but one omniscient 

Could so much know or see ; 
And he, indeed, is but a fool 

Who this great truth denies, 
That there is one great living God, 

For nature proves he lies. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 163 

WAITING AND DREAMING. 

(Written for my aged friend, Mrs. B.) 

I am waiting, I am dreaming, 

While the years are rolling by. 
And my hairs are whiter turning, 

And a dimness of my eye 
Is all that I am gaining 

From the swiftly passing years. 
Save the shortening of my journey 

To the bright celestial spheres. 

All my labors now are ended, 

Every task is finished now, 
For the stamp of many winters 

Is imprinted on my brow ; 
And a-dreaming now I ponder. 

While the years are flitting by. 
Yes, I 'm dreaming of the pleasures 

Of a home beyond the sky. 

Of life's years I 've had full measure. 

And I 've borne my load of care ; 
I have tasted earthly pleasure. 

And of trouble had my share ; 
But now I 'm old and feeble. 

My life's journey soon will cease, 
And by day and night I 'm dreaming 

Of sweet Heaven and its peace. 



164 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

Many friends have gone before me, 

Whom I long once more to see ; 
Many loved ones, too, are waiting 

There to greet and welcome me ; 
And while waiting and a-dreaming, 

As the years are rolling by, 
I can almost hear their voices 

Chanting anthems in the sky. 

In the Saviour I have trusted, 

Who has given me the peace 
That the understanding passeth, 

And my longings doth increase 
There to stand within His presence. 

And be known as I am|known ; 
And a-waiting I am dreaming 

Of sweet Jesus and His throne. 




AND OTHER POEMS. 165 

TM IN LOVE WITH TWO GIRLS- 

I 'm in love with two girls — 

Now isn 't that queer ? 
One 's a little brunette, 

The other's quite fair ; 
They both are so pretty, 

So sweet and so dear. 
To say which is dearest, 

I can 't, I declare. 

But of this I 'm assured — 

They dearly love me ; 
Are not the least jealous 

Wherever I be ; 
I know they are constant 

And true in their love. 
And ne'er will forsake me 

Where ever I rove. 

There are others, I know, 

More sweet — debonair. 
But in my affection 

There 's none to compare 
With these little ladies 

Of whom I am so fond — 
My black-eyed brunette 

And rosy- cheeked blonde. 



166 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHKRN HKROKS 

To say that I loved them 

But feebly expressed 
How deeply abiding 

Their place in my breast ; 
And the wealth of the world, 

In diamonds and pearls, 
I would count as but dross 

Compared to my girls. 

And there is another, 

Of whom I 've not told, 
And with whom I 'm in love. 

As much as of old, 
She 's the queen of my soul. 

The charm of my life — 
My little girls' Mamma, 

My own precious wife. 




AND OTHKR POKMS. 167 

IN DUTEOUS LOVE WE COME AGAIN* 

In duteous love we come again 

With evergreens and brightest blooms, 
The purest offering we can bring, 

To lay upon the hallowed tombs 
Of our loved and honored dead. 

Whose deeds, heroic and subHme, 
Shall be our country's greatest pride 

Through all the years of endless time. 

When northern despots came to rob 

Our country of her liberty, 
They flew to arms in her defense, 

And, shouting loud their battle cry. 
Unfurled unto the southern breeze 

The banner of the triple bars 
And rushed to meet the coming foe 

Like heroes at command of Mars. 

And on the wide spread battle field. 

Like meeting clouds before the storm, 
With banners bright and flashing blades, 

They gathered into battle form, 
And, in their fervency of heart. 

Swore by the Heaven's eternal host 
That they would never yield their rights 

Till tyrants' blood had paid the cost. 



168 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

And with their bristling bayonets 

They met the raging battle blast, 
And 'mid the sulphurous clouds of smoke, 

With which the field was overcast, 
Dealt lightning blows for liberty, 

And poured upon the dusty plain 
Their precious life-sustaining blood 

As freely as mid-summer's rain. 

But now the storm of war is past 

And freedom's flag hes in the dust ; 
A mock of peace reigns o 'er the land, 

And the most sacred, solemn trust 
That patriot hearts have ever known 

Is all that we have left to claim — 
'Tis but the ashes of our braves 

And honors of their deathless fame. 

But when the muse of history wakes. 

Released from bonds of prejudice, 
She will the grandest story tell 

Of valorous deeds and sacrifice 
That ever graced the page of fame, 

And glory, bright as Heaven's sun, 
Will shed a luster o 'er the land 

Of Robert Lee and Washington. 

And every nation of the world. 

Where honor's loved and patriots dwell, 

Will glorify the martyred dead 

Who 'neath the Southern banner fell ; 



AND OTHER POEMS. 169 

And bards from every clime will come 
To where their cherished ashes lie, 

And, catching inspiration there, 
Will waft their praises to the sky. 

And nature's God, who rules above, 

Will bless the tributes which we lay. 
With loving hands in tender care, 

Upon the consecrated clay 
Which lies upon the mouldering forms 

Of as true and faithful band 
As ever praised his holy name 

Or battled for their native land. 

And with each year's returning spring 

We '11 come with flowers and deck the sod 
Which marks each hero's resting place ; 

And, lifting up our hearts to God, 
Plead by the justness of their cause. 

For which their noble lives were given. 
That we may meet them all at last, 

Gathered safely into Heaven. 




170 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

SONG BY UNCLE MOSE* 

I feel so sad to-night, 

I don 't know what to do. 

My heart hangs heavy in my breast, 
So I '11 take my old banjo 
An' I '11 sing er song er two, 

Ere I lay my poor weary head to rest. 

CHORUS. 

De days am sad, de nights am dreer, 
But death will set me free. 

And up on high beyond de sky 
An angel I will be. 

How I have lived so long 
Since my old o'man died, 

I cannot well remember now, 
But my tears I 've never dried, 
Tho' so vainly I have tried, 

Since her death cast a shadow o'er my brow. 

CHORUS. 

De days am sad, de nights am dreer, 
But death will set me free. 

And up on high beyond de sky 
An angel I will be. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 171 

No more myself I seem, 

Dis world am growing wrong, 

No flowers roun' my cabin bloom, 
Not a bird will sing er song, 
An de days am sad and long. 

Since I laid my old o'man in de toom. 

CHORUS. 

De days am sad, de nights am dreer. 

But death will set me free, 
And up on high beyond de sky 

An angel I will be. 

My banjo's out of tune. 

And seems to 've lost its tone, 

I, too, am gettin' old and gray, 
All my frens am dead and gone, 
And I 'm left here all alone. 

Just to wait and to weep my life away. 

CHORUS. 

De days am sad, de nights am dreer, 

But death will set me free. 
And up on high beyond de sky 

An angel I will be. 



172 



A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 



But some ob dese ere nights, 
When I lay me down to sleep, 

I '11 close my eyes to wake no more, 
Till she for whom I weep 
Beyond de Jordan deep, 

Wakes me up on dat bright and happy shore. 

CHORUS. 

De days am sad, de nights am dreer, 

But death will set me free. 
And up on high beyond de sky 

An angel I will be. 




AND OTHKR POEMS. 173 

THE EXILE'S WISH, 

When my summons of death shall come, 

And I must lay me down and die, 
I wish to be afar from home. 

Where not a single weeping eye 
Shall look upon my pallid brow 

And mark the heaving of my breast, 
For were my senses then as now, 

I could not calmly sink to rest. 

Nor do I wish in that dread hour 

The sobs of grieving friends to hear. 
And know that 'tis not in my power 

The sadness from their hearts to cheer ; 
Nor would I feel upon my cheek 

The tender touch of loving hand, 
Nor list to lips which faltering speak 

The glories of a better land. 

But rather in some lonely cave, 

To all the world but me unknown. 
Be mine, the exile's unsought grave. 

Where soothed by the ocean's moan, 
Without a tear, without a groan. 

To end this troubled hfe of mine 
And leave my dust, to man unknown. 

Where sun or star-rays never shine. 



174 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

WOMAN AND THE SNAKE. 

RBPIvY TO RKV. F. J. E. 

I hold it true 
And still maintain 

This fact where e 'er I go ; 
That I or you, 
What e 'er we do 

Are heirs to pain and woe. 

Old mother Eve, 
The apple ate, 

From the forbidden tree, 
And I believe 
'Twas to conceive. 

And so caused you and me. 

We all are here 
How e 'er it be. 

And all must multiply. 
And all must bear 
Pain, grief and care, 

And in the end must die. 

God willed it so. 
We can 't deny, 

Or else it ne 'er had been ; 
And thus 'tis so 
That all our woe 

Is not produced by sin. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 175 

In Eden fair, 

Ere man was made, 

Jehovah's will was law ; 
The tempter's snare 
And man's despair 

God doubtless all foresaw. 

And had He not 
Ordained that Eve 

Should of the apple eat. 
Old Eve, I wot, 
Had never got 

Deceived by such a cheat. 

And when you try 
The fact to screen, 

God's word you must forsake. 
For all must die, 
Both she and I, 

Said God ; not so the snake. 

And death, you see. 
Brings pain and woe ; 

And troubles multiply, 
And you and me 
And all we see. 

Must suffer, toil and die. 

And good or bad, 
'Tis all the same. 

We can 't amend the law ; 
And whether glad. 
Or whether mad, 

It is no use to jaw. 



176 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

NATALITIA. 

(Written before marriage, to my wife, on the occasion of lier sixteenth 

birthday.) 

Just sixteen years have passed away 
Since precious Lizzie's natal day ; 

Just sixteen years since Nature's God 
Looked down from His abode above 

Upon this dreary mundane sod 
And saw it had no queen of love. 

Then to an angel by His side 

He did the task of love confide 
To search through all the hosts of heaven 

And find the brightest seraph there, 
That she might to the earth be given 

To reign as queen of all the fair. 

The angel then, with that command, 
Flew round among the angel band. 

And, searching, found a fairy sprite. 
With raven curls and snowy breast 

And rosy cheeks and eyes of light, 

Which brighter shone than all the rest. 

And as no fairer could be found, 

Around that sprite her arms she wound, 

And, spreading forth her wings of white. 
Flew swiftly down and brought to earth 

That little queen — the fairy sprite. 
And gave to her terrestial birth. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 



177 



12 



And since to earth this queen was born, 
The ranks of beauty to adorn, 

With every year more fair she's grown, 
'Till I have vowed that little elf 

Shall rule but one, and one alone, 
And I shall be that one myself. 




178 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

A PLEA FOR UNITY. 

A CAMPAIGN POKM. 

Hear me, sons of Alabama ! 

Hear, oh hear my earnest plea ! 
Cease thy fratricidal warfare, 

Our nation's eyes are turned on thee. 
Let not demagogues and traitors 

With anarchistic tongues inflame 
Thy loyal hearts with madness blind 

To plunge thy State in gulfs of shame. 

Let thy pride of race unite thee ; 

Thy birthright is this godly land ; 
By God's ordained supremacy 

Thine is the right to still command. 
Then spurn, oh, spurn with bitter scorn 

The leadership of selfish knaves 
Who fain would foist upon us all 

A rulership of former slaves. 

Ye have in times that tried men's souls 

Displayed your valor and your might. 
And borne through fiercest battle storms 

Old Alabama's banner bright, 
And now when threat'ning dangers lurk 

On every hand and every side. 
Oh, will ye, worthy patriots, 

Let aught your noble ranks divide ? 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 179 

Our glorious Southland's holy cause 

A true Caucasian pride inspires 
In every true and honest breast 

Of Alabama's sons and sires ; 
For come what will of weal or woe, 

Our destiny must be the same ; 
In unity there's honor still — 

Division means defeat and shame. 

Then curs'd be he whose selfish soul, 

Groping in its darkened cell, 
Would on our State base odium bring — 

A degradation worse than h — 1. 
For when rape fiends and radicals 

Shall grasp once more the reins of state, 
God pity helpless women fair, 

Shield and protect them from their fate ! 

Then let us all together come. 

United firm in heart and hand. 
And swear by God's eternal love 

To shield and save our native land. 
Yes, swear by God who made the blood 

Which flows in every white man's veins, 
That true to our Caucasian race 

We '11 loyal stand while life remains. 



180 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

OUR SOLDIERS' GRAVES- 

(Written in Oak Hill Cemetery, Atlanta, Decoration Day.) 

Behold the hosts with solemn tread, 

As on in silence now they move, 
Amid the graves where sleep the dead 

Who died for this dear land we love. 

Tis not for pride and vain display. 

That they have sought this hallowed ground, 

But love's commands, which they obey, 
To honor every sacred mound. 

See, every hand a garland bears, 
Of evergreens and sweetest blooms. 

Bathed with the heart's sincerest tears. 
To decorate those hallowed tombs. 

The task is one sublimely grand, 

And all that martyr ever craves. 
Or claims of the survivor's hand — 

A tribute to their silent graves. 

No monument of lettered stone. 

However high may be its head. 
So much of love can e'er make known. 

As do these tears by beauty shed. 

And oh ! what more could patriots ask, 
As they look down from heavenly spheres. 

And see performed this grateful task. 

Their graves o'erstrewn with flowers and tears. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 181 

A LOVER'S PIQUE. 

Fair girl, if thou could'st only know 

How much of love thou art possessed, 
Thou would'st the cruel slights forego, 

By which my heart's so oft distressed : 
Nor would thy lips in cold disdain, 

E'er with scornful smile reprove me, 
Unless 'tis pleasure to give pain 

To one who cannot help but love thee. 

Ne'er would'st that sparkling eye of thine 

E'er blanch me with its glance of hate, 
Nor would'st thou scorn these tears of mine, 

And bid me curse my bitter fate. 
Nay, nay, not so, if thou but 'st knew 

How helpless I am to control 
That flame of love which lit by you, 

Which day and night consumes my soul. 

But pity would with soothing wand 

Thy heart to soft impulses move. 
And thou who art so proud and grand, 

Should'st pity my unhappy love. 
Repentance, too, within my heart, 

Should'st fill thy lovely eyes with tears, 
And bid thy quivering lips impart 

Sweet words of solace to mine ears. 



182 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROES 

But go ! thy pity I disdain. 

My manhood's pride is now returning, 
For tho' I 've loved so long in vain, 

The flame at last must cease its burning, 
Yes, true, for even whilst I write, 

Altho' the change has come so late. 
My soul's aglow with new-born light. 

From fires of newly kindled hate. 

Yes, go ! and be thou cursed or blest. 

Thy love and pity I disdain. 
For now I feel within my breast 

No more the slightest touch of pain. 
Nor would I lose one single breath 

To yield a sigh of one regret, 
But rather would I face my death 

Than suppliant sue to base coquette. 




AND OTHieR POBMS. 

DYING ABELARD- 

Here within this gloomy abbey, 

Where I came to hide my shame, 
I now welcome death's approaches 

Which must soon my spirit claim. 
Years have passed since first I entered. 

Through this ill-foreboding door, 
Casting off the wreaths of laurel, 

Which in glory once I wore. 

And with memories wrought in sorrow, 

Slowly wearing out my life, 
I have prayed the coming summons 

That should end my bosom's strife. 
Even now while sable shadows 

Darken o'er my glazing eye, 
Calmly I receive the warning, 

Feeling that 'tis sweet to die. 

But oh, my faithful Heloise, 

To thee my dying spirit flies. 
And the past with sorrows laden. 

In my burning thoughts arise ; 
And I see thee pure and lovely, 

As before I brought thee shame. 
And I hear thy earnest pleading. 

To forsake thee — for my fame. 



183 



184 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

And I see the look of anguish 

Settle on thy features still, 
As when first the curse of passion 

Triumphed o'er thy virtuous will. 
Oh, the memories of that hour ; 

How they cling with keen regret, 
Would to God my awful sinning, 

I could banish or forget. 

All my fortune, fame and glory, 

I relinquished for thy smile. 
Smothered was my soul and conscience, 

By my passion's subtle guile. 
And when all too late repenting, 

I had taken thee, to wife, 
Fulbert, in his brutal vengeance, 

Worse than robbed me of my life. 

Hark, methinks I hear thy voice, 

Yes, oh, yes ! I see thy face ; 
Quick my long neglected idol. 

Clasp me in thy warm embrace ; 
Lay thy hands upon my brow, 

Whilst those burning lips of thine 
Impart once more their latent heat 

To these frozen lips of mine. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 185 

Alas ! 'tis o'er, 'twas but a dream 

Of my racked and frenzied brain, 
And thou, — my own sweet Heloise, 

I will never see again. 
Still and dark is all around me, 

Soon my breast will cease to swell, 
God of mercy shield and keep thee, 

Sweet Heloise, fare thee well. 



THE DUDE. 

There 's a fellow in this city 

And I guess you know him well. 
But if not 'tis no pity, 

For he 's but a fancy swell 
Who only lives for pleasure, 

A life of ease and rest, 
And of all his mammy's children. 

He loves himself the best. 

You '11 find him at the races. 

The party and soiree. 
And in the ladies' faces 

He fondly looks to see 
A smiling recognition 

Of his form so finely drest, 
For of all his mammy's children. 

He loves himself the best. 



186 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

He drives the finest horses 

And dances with much grace, 
Tho' in his weazen features 

The monkey you can trace. 
He 's a four-ply base-ball critic, 

At billiards plays with zest. 
And of all his mammy's children. 

He loves himself the best. 

But at the ball and picnic 

This la da da young dude 
Gets in his finest antics, 

His monkey actions rude ; 
A crank he is on waltzing 

With a dudine on his breast, 
For of all his mammy's children, 

He loves himself the best. 

I guess the God who made him 

Must have made him for a cause^ 
But really I 'm too shallow 

To imagine what it was ; 
His head I know is empty. 

No virtue fills his breast, 
But of all his mammy's children, 

He loves himself the best. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 187 

BRAVE NICKELL OF KENTUCKY. 

All through the day in battle fray 

Brave Nickell nobly stood, 
And when the fight had closed with night 

And the field was red with blood, 
When all had fled except the dead 

Of his followers on the field, 
He stood alone with flashing gun 

Disdaining still to yield. 

Like lightning's crash his carbine's flash 

Rang out with fearful dread, 
And every peal from out his steel 

Still added to the dead. 
Loud bursting shell around him fell 

And fast the bullets flew. 
But, trusting God, he trode the sod, 

A hero brave and true. 

But e'en the best must take their rest, 

And he must sleep at last. 
And ere the dawn of coming morn 

The tyrants held him fast. 
His arms they bound and 'round him wound 

Long cords of strength and power. 
And martial Judge, with spiteful grudge, 

Soon fixed his fatal hour. 



188 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

Yes, right away he fixed the day. 

And in the self-same breath, 
With demon smile, named Johnson's isle, 

His place to meet his death. 
But not a word or muscle stirred 

When the sentence struck his ear. 
He stood alone, like cast of stone, 

Unmoved by grief or fear. 

And when he stood and calmly viewed 

The beam and dangling rope, 
His manly will with courage still, 

Unblanched by flight of hope. 
Showed from his eyes, without disguise, 

A heart with pluck imbued — 
A soul of flame, which would not tame. 

Nor be by death subdued. 

No friend was there his thoughts to share, 

No priest with him to pray ; 
But never man since tim.e began, 

Met death with less dismay. 
To friends in grey he bid them say. 

When death had closed his eye, 
That true to God and native sod. 

He never feared to die. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 189 

ADIEU TO ^^NINETY-FOUR/'* 

Adieu ! adieu ! old ninety-four, 

Your last, last sun is set ; 
Go take thy place on Stygian shore, 

Unmourned by one regret. 

For though by you we 're nearer brought 

To life's fast coming end, 
You 've brought to none of pleasure aught 

And proved to none a friend. 

But much of that we 'd won by toil, 

You 've pilfered in your stay, 
And now like some marauding thief 

By night you steal away. 

How many homes all desolate, 

Their ruin sad to see ; 
How many orphans left to fate, 

Old year, are due to thee ? 

Your footprints on the shores of time 

Forever will remain ; 
But scarce a heart in any clime 

Will wish you back again. 

Then go and be forever gone ; 

All that you promised fair 
Hath been withheld, and hopes forlorn 

Attest how false you were. 



* Written December 31, 1894, at the close of general hard times. 



190 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROES 

Thy dying dirge will fitting seem 
When gong and clanging bell, 

And everything with breath of steam 
Shall sound thy parting knell. 

Then let thy spirit take its flight, 
Thy pinions quickly spread, 

To shores of dark Plutonian night 
To sleep with ages dead. 

Earth's mantle, now of whitest snow, 
Shall be your winding sheet. 

The stars shall funeral tapers glow, 
The winds thy requiems meet. 

Hark ! Now I hear the whistles shriek, 

I hear the clanging bell ; 
Avauat ! be gone ! thy doom they speak 

Farewell, old year, farewell. 




AND OTHER POKMS. 191 

THE GIRLS OF SILVER CREEK. 

**Poeta nascitur non fit," 
Some ancient sage or bard has writ, 
But I was not a poet born. 
Or if I was, I *ve spoilt the horn ; 
At least I 'm no poetic spoon, 
Or if I am, was pulled too soon ; 
Nor have I climbed Parnassus Mount, 
Or drunk from Helicon's sweet fount; 
Nor do I woo the sacred nine 
To aid me in this task of mine, 
Nor need I the Pegasus' jade, 
For theme like mine should claim no aid. 
I need no Latin, French or Greek 
To praise the girls of Silver Creek. 
Their charms alone my pen inspire 
And lift me from prosaic mire 
That I must tread when praising men. 
Or telling facts "that might have been,'* 
I '11 drink not e'en the ruby wine 
To wake within me thoughts divine ; 
But trusting naught for inspiration 
I '11 write as suits my inclination. 
Let critics mouth and criticise, 
'Tis critics that I most despise. 
Fools find it easier faults to find 
Than their own business ends to mind. 
But hang it all ! this long prelude 
Is wasting time and does no good. 



192 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

So, girls, here goes ; know I 'm your friend, 

I hope to please and not offend. 

The first of whom I '11 sing is Matt, 

She 's full of fun and awful fat ; 

Where 'er she goes it 's ** get out sadness," 

Make room for fun, good will and gladness. 

She 's a sugar lump of sweetest joys, 

And weighs two hundred avoirdupois. 

The next is Georgia, her fair sister, 

A kiss from whom would raise a blister; 

She 's neat and tidy as a pin. 

And has a heart that knows no sin. 

That she 's a beauty, bet your life, 

And would make a man a noble wife. 

And there is Annie — she 's a daisy, 

Enough to run a lover crazy. 

She's young and gentle, sweet and tender, 

A lovely blonde, graceful, slender ; 

Her hps with ripe twin cherries vie, 

And roses bow when she goes by. 

Then Jennie R., the little fairy; 

Bashful, timid and so wary; 

To flatter her were just as silly 

As trying to paint the fairest lily. 

But what shall I of Julia say? 

Would I a worthy tribute pay 

To her kind heart and gen'rous soul, 

I 'd need the heavens for a scroll ; 

On less of space I could not find 

Room to praise her heart so kind ; 



13 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 193 

But since such space can 't be her meed, 

The will is given for the deed. 

And now the next is Etta's name, 

To wake my soul's poetic flame ; 

And as I clasp my willing pen, 

To praise this fairy of the glen, 

My thoughts run wild, my heart beats high. 

But to flatter her I need not try ; 

Her charms no pen can eulogize, 

But he who wins her wins a prize. 

And then there 's Ida, whom we so miss, 

To have her back would give us bliss. 

Full many hearts will sigh and ache 

'Till she returns, for her sweet sake. 

Nor Lizzie B. will I omit. 

When praising beauty, worth and wit ; 

For those are graces all her own. 

And thousands more I can 't make known. 

Nor would I here Miss Lula slight, 

For slighting her would not be right. 

She 's full of goodness, pluck and grit, 

And knows the rule, "git up and git." 

I cannot praise her worth too much, 

The world were better for more just such — 

But like the dessert after dinner. 

As sure as I 'm an honest sinner, 

I 've left the best to be the last. 

In winding up my rhyme's repast. 



194 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHIBRN HEROES 

'Tis Emma W., she 's a whizzer, 

A thousand boys would like to squeeze her, 

For she 's so plump, so sweet and fair, 

Tom I n sighs to be a bear. 

But Tom, old boy, you need not sigh, 
The best of grapes are always high ; 
The sweetest sugar's in hard lumps. 
And queens are caught by bigger trumps; 
But sail in, Tom, with all the rest. 
For he who wins is more than blest. 



WE COME ONCE MORE* 

We come once more, and with us bring 
The sweetest flowers of early spring, 
To decorate the lonely graves 
Of our loved, departed braves. 

Tis duty's call which we obey. 
That prompts the tributes which we pay 
To those who sleep in death's embrace. 
Who died for honor and their race. 

And as we deck each holy mound. 
We '11 humbly kneel upon the ground. 
And raise our hearts in prayer to God 
To bless our patriots' hallowed sod. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 195 

A WOMAN OF THE TOWN- 

Only a fallen woman, 

Mark the paint upon her cheek, 
That hides the faltering blushes 

Where modesty would speak ; 
Spurn her from your church's door, 

Seat her not in sacred pew ; 
Her soul is steeped in vileness, 

Let her learn her wrongs to rue. 

Bar all your homes against her 

And spurn her on the street, 
Let her ears to scornful hisses 

Hearken when you chance to meet. 
She has parted with her virtue. 

She was tempted and she fell, 
And now, with scornful daggers, 

Help to drive her soul to hell. 

Jesus, the dying Saviour, 

Only shed his precious blood 
To pave the way to Heaven 

For the virtuous and the good. 
The unfortunates of passion, 

And of man's deceiving lies. 
Must never hope for pardon 

Nor to mount the Christian's skies. 



196 A GAI<AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

If she ask of you for bread, 

Be sure you give her a stone — 
Perhaps 'twill gall her conscience 

And extort a deeper groan. 
Let her feel your pious vengeance, 

Crush her heart beneath your heel. 
And think how Christ will bless you 

For the spirit you reveal. 

Never touch her sinful hand, 

Nor beside her kneel and pray ; 
Shut the book of life against her, 

Let her go her sinful way. 
Sting her soul with contumely, 

Never let to her be known 
,That Christ has said that the sinless 

Should be the first to cast a stone. 

Oh, you hollow-hearted men, 

And you, women in your pride. 
Behold this fallen outcast 

While your consciences decide 
If you should have forgiveness 

For all your sinful stains. 
While she, poor erring mortal. 

Must, unpitied, wear her chains. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 197 

WAITING AND LONGING* 

How long seem the days, and what ages the weeks, 
Since, darling, my lips I last pressed to thy cheeks ; 
And oh ! with what longing, what anguish and pain, 
I wait for the day when I '11 see thee again. 

The nights are so long, so lonely without thee ; 
My thoughts and my dreams are ever about thee ; 
Sleep wooes not my lids, tho' tired and weary. 
Life is a burden, existence is dreary. 

In bright gilded halls of pleasure's resort, 
Where the joyous and gay with companions consort; 
The laughter there heard and all that I see, 
O'erwhelms me with sadness and longings for thee. 

On the streets when I stroll and join with the throng 
Of multitudes rushing, hurrying along. 
All aimless I wander on no mission bent, 
And naught that I find can bring me content. 

Oh, what in this life is worth living for me 
When thy face and thy form no longer I see. 
No music can soothe me, no pleasure delight. 
When thou art not near me my life is a blight. 

Then fly ye winged hours and hasten the day 
That shall bring me surcease from my longing dismay; 
When the sunshine of love, the smiles of my wife 
Shall banish the gloom now dark'ning my life. 



198 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

GIVE ME FOR A FRIEND. 

Give me for a friend 

The warm-hearted man, 
Who dares to do right, 

Whatever betide ; 
Whose love-beaming eye 

Some virtue will scan 
In the worst of all those 

Whom braggarts deride. 

I ask not his name, 

Nor care for his birth ; 
Whether Gentile or Jew, 

No need to enquire ; 
Whether highly in fame. 

Or lowly of earth 
If his heart warmly beats 

With love-kindled fire. 

Yes, give me the man 

Whose soul-beaming eye 
Grows moist with a tear 

At pity's appeal, 
And who to the call 

Is ready to fly. 
And a liberal heart 

By actions reveal. 



AND OTHKR POEMS. 199 

Yes, give me the man 

With carriage erect, 
In the lines of whose h'ps 

True courage I '11 trace ; 
Who 's slow in a friend 

A fault to detect. 
But ready and quick 

A foeman to face. 

Let him be a true man. 

From dogmas all freed, 
Whose mind is his book, 

His conscience his guide ; 
Who deigns not to stoop 

To priest-ridden creed. 
But walks by the light 

Which God hath supplied. 




200 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

LINES FOR THANKSGIVING DAY. 

When nature's God with plastic hand, 
His pencils dip in rainbow dyes 

To paint the autumn forest grand, 

Such rapturous beauty greets mine eyes 

That I perforce from pure delight 
• And gratitude to God in Heaven, 

For such sublime, entrancing sight 
Must thanks return for rapture given. 

I render thanks for fruitful fields, 

Snow-banked with fleecy cotton white, 
For golden wealth that harvest yields, 

For fruit and flowers my soul's delight, 
Oh ! yes, for these rich blessings rare, 

I bend my head and bless the sod, 
While from my lips I breathe a prayer 

Of gratitude and thanks to God. 

And when my wistful gaze I turn 

To great etherial dome above. 
Where astral lamps eternal burn 

Swung out through God's supernal love 
To light me to his home on high, 

I feel my soul with rapture swell 
And winged with prayer thanksgivings fly 

To Him who doeth all things well. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 201 

A PHILLIPIC ON EXEMPTION LAWS, 

It used to be but ain 't so now, that men would pay 
their debts, 

But thinking now of that time past, I sigh with vain 
regrets. 

Protecting laws for scheming knaves, the bill-col- 
lector greets, 

But nowhere in our code we find a law against *' dead- 
beats." 

Exemption laws, for knaves a shield, the demagogues 

have made, 
Which license gives to every thief who wills to ply 

his trade. 
Our honest tradesmen vainly seek in courts their 

rights to gain. 
Whilst sleek-fed rascals sit and smile to see them seek 

in vain. 

Statutes of anti-garnishment, dishonest men protect. 
And every poor man's word or note our tradesmen 

must reject. 
For since all the laws have been repealed for creditor's 

relief. 
We dare not credit any man lest he should prove a 

thief. 



202 



A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 



But men with millions to invest, in goods to sell on 

time, 
For poor men, spread the mortgage net and seine for 

every dime. 
And they who in their meshes caught, like sheep by 

shearers tied. 
Are oftimes clipped so close for wool, they lose both 

wool and hide. 

But let us all, as honest men, these devilish laws 

efface. 
They foster and encourage theft, our state they do 

disgrace. 
The poor man's credit they impair, the shylock's 

coffers fill, 
And all who advocate such laws, a prison cell should 

fill. 




AND O'THER POEMS. 203 

THE WRECK. 

'Tis over now, the dream is past, 
A dream it was — too bright to last ; 

I know the worst, I feel it all, 
My last bright hope has fled ; 

I take the cup and drink the gall. 
Though tears no more I '11 shed. 

Yet, welling up in memory strong, 

I measure still the awful wrong ; 
His loving words were, oh, so dear, 

I blindly followed on. 
And now there 's naught my heart to cheer, 

My faith in man is gone. 

But oh, unequal and unjust, 

That he who won my love and trust. 

And then betrayed me to my shame, 
Tho' guiltier far than I, 

Escapes the penalties and blame. 
Whilst I must worse than die. 

For I have learned, alas, too late ! 

To mourn my sad and bitter fate ; 
Have learned in bitter anguish deep 

How base man is — unjust, 
And learned how useless 'tis to weep. 

When conquered by his lust. 



204 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

But SO it is, the die is cast, 
The past is now forever past ; 

Nor pleading prayer, nor mints of gold, 
Nor all my curses vain 

Can lift the guilt from off my soul, 
Nor bring my virtue back again. 

Could I alone but bear the shame, 
And sully not my parent's name. 

My bleeding heart should bleed alone. 
My lips should murmur not. 

And I might stifle every groan, 
And cease to wail my lot. 

But when I think that with my fall. 
My friends, my brothers, sisters, all. 

And every kindred link on earth 
Must share the blighting stain — 

Yes, even my babe before its birth — 
The thought doth wreck my brain. 

Ah, yes, ah, yes, e'en now I feel 

My vague and wandering senses reel ; 

Black demons strike and serpents dart 
And fiends, the blackest, round me yell ; 

My friends forsake, my heart strings part ; 
Oh, welcome, death and hell. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 205 

GOOD-BYE* 

Impelled by that resistless fate, 

Which guides me with an iron hand, 

I must forsake the scenes of late, 
To roam again some other land. 

For it has ever been my lot 

'Mid strangers all my life to roam, 

And never find on earth a spot 
That I may even claim as home. 

And knowing not where next I '11 be, 

I follow on without a fear, 
For since these scenes no more I '11 see. 

There 's nothing else excites a care. 

But let me go where 'er I may, 

There 's not a scene that I '11 forget ; 

There 's not a friend but every day 
I '11 think of with a sad regret. 

^Nebo and Hebron oft will rise 

In sweet imaginative view. 
And looking on the starry skies. 

My soul will all its hopes renew. 

*Round Island, too, and Bethlehem 

Will in affection ever dwell. 
For sacred truths first learned in them 

Have sunk in memory's deepest cell. 



206 A GAIvAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

And friendly faces that I 've loved, 
Imprinted on my inmost heart, 

Will linger there by time unmoved. 
And only with my life depart. 

There 's Robert L., my noble friend, 
From whom I part with keenest pain. 

For him my love shall never end, 
Tho' we may never meet again. 

Yes, and there is still another — 

Dear Thomas S. , whose generous heart 

Makes me love him like a brother. 

And grieves my soul that we must part. 

And oft when 1 in slumbers lie. 
My soul, escaping from my breast. 

Will back to Minnie swiftly fly. 
And vigils keep while she's at rest. 

But why should I their names repeat. 
Or let my muse their virtues tell. 

When we on earth no more shall meet. 
So, friends and loved ones, fare ye well. 



*Nebo. Hebron, Round Island and Bethlehem were names of 
churches in a county in Alabama, 




AND OTHKR POKMS. 207 

OUR NATION'S SHAME.* 

" Belmont and the Rothscliilds (the English syndicate) will protect our 
nation's credit." — Carlisle. 

I am a freeman and declare 

Before my God and fellow-man 
That rather than I e'er should wear 

The shackels of that craven clan, 
Who bend the knee at Mammon's shrine 

And stulify our nation's pride, 
I would far rather see decline 

My life's last sun in Lethe's tide. 

I love my God and fellow-men, 

And honor still my country's flag, 
I love her every glade and glen, 

Her every stream and mountain crag; 
I love her history and the men 

Whose hands the stars and stripes unfurled. 
And wrought for her a glory then 

The brightest that has blessed the world. 

And I will swear and firmly vow 

In spite of all that may betide. 
That I will never bend, nor bow. 

Or leaning, veer towards the side 
Of that base, venial, bribe-bought man. 

That Jumbo-Judas of our day, 
That chieftain of a cuckoo clan 

Who would my country's rights betray. 



• Written during- the second term of Cleveland's administration 



208 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

No! no! I loathe, I spurn, I hate, 

With deep disgust my soul is stirred 
At very thought of such a fate 

As on my land has been conferred 
By that vile traitor, Shylock's tool, 

Disgracing now the honored seat 
Where Washington was wont to rule 

When England groveled at his feet. 

But now, my God ! my countrymen ! 

Behold the shame upon us brought, 
Yea, looking, see and tell me when 

Was e'er before upon us wrought 
Such ignominy and disgrace 

As shames our nation's honor now. 
Let Freedom's Goddess hide her face 

While such disgrace shall stain her brow. 

See how has sunk our nation's pride. 

How mean our independence now 
Since England, whom we long defied. 

Can come and make us humbly bow 
And eat the crumbs she deigns to give ; 

Yea, lick her hand as curs might do 
And thank our God she lets us live — 

Ye gods ! the thought doth make me spew. 

But out with all such twaddle base, 
This is the land Columbus gave 

And never shall a foreign race 

Degrade our eighty millions brave ; 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 209 

But true to God and all that 's right 

Old England we will still defy 
And in our majesty and might, 

We '11 rule this land or, fighting, die. 

Then down with that arch-traitor bold, 

And every hireling satellite. 
Our nation's honor to uphold 

Should be each patriot's chief delight. 
Down with the English syndicate. 

Who dares our nation's rights abuse, 
And sweep from off our ship of state 

That craven crew of base " cuckoos." 

And glorious, let "Old Glory" still 

Before all nations proudly wave. 
Whilst every mint shall stamp and mill 

The dollars that our fathers gave. 
No English Shylock or Cuckoo* 

Shall brook the wrathful, rising tide. 
For what we would, we dare to do 

In fostering still our nation's pride. 



* Cuckoo, the name facetiously given by one wing' of the Democratic 
party to those Democrats who endorsed President Cleveland in his 
course on the money question. 



14 



210 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

MY FRIEND. 

My friend of to-day is my friend of to-morrow, 
His joy is my joy, his sorrow my sorrow ; 
Let him be what he will, his acts I approve, 
For I see not his faults, so great is my love. 

I 've known him full long and know him full well. 
Of his many good traits 'tis needless to tell ; 
But sufficient to me is this above all. 
He *s a friend unto those whom misfortunes befall. 

He wears not the symbol of creed or of church, 
But when charity calls is not found in the lurch, 
And bearing no trumpet to sound his own praise, 
His conscience by him is more treasured than bays. 

Never daunted by fear, when dangers arise, 
Nor wearing a mask, his thoughts to disguise : 
He 's a friend to his friends and a foe to his foes, 
And his actions his noble impulses disclose. 

He is rich, but not with bright silver and gold. 
Nor many broad acres hath he to control ; 
But richer, far richer, than Croesus the king. 
His wealth is the peace his conscience doth bring. 

XJnsordid, unselfish ; he *s a man I can trust, 
JFor his words and his deeds are all meant to be 

just. 
And though he may err in whole or in part, 
^Tis a fault of his judgment and not of his heart. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 



211 



And now, as in past, "let fate do her worst," 
My hopes be destroyed, my prospects accursed ; 
Come weal or come woe, let me sink, let me swim, 
I '11 be true to my friend though the world should 
condemn. 

And were there some ruby or diamond more bright 
Than the fairest of gems in the crown of the night. 
And should all the stars turn to diamonds and fall, 
I would not give my friend, if I could, for them all. 




212 A GAIvAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

THE RIGHT. 

On the world's broad stage of action, 

Whatsoever part you play, 
Let it be your soul's attraction 

To do all the good you may ; 
Heed not you the voice of jeering. 

Notice not the foes who slight ; 
Lift your head with manly bearing. 

Let you motto be ''The Right." 

Seeming friends will round you linger, 

When your labors meet success, 
But will point a scorning finger 

When they see you in distress ; 
And it may be they will trample 

On you with a tyrant's might. 
But forbear from their example, 

Let your motto be "The Right." 

Oft temptations in your pathway, 

Like fair roses will be spread ; 
Deceitful charms to lead astray. 

Hiding dangers from your tread ; 
For oft beneath ''fair roses" He 

Serpents of most deadly bite ; 
So always keep an open eye, 

Let your motto be "The Right." 



AND OTHER POEMS. 213 

First see that what you undertake 

Is just and right before you start, 
Then when you 've done so, loose the brake, 

And go ahead with all your heart ; 
Think not of troubles on the track, 

Tho' many dangers meet your sight. 
Face them bravely, force them back ; 

Let your motto be " The Right." 

Should slanderers base your name assail. 

Turn away with heedless ear ; 
Should friends forsake and fortune fail, 

Still to duty persevere ; 
For every star that shines above 

Shines on tho* clouds obscure the light — 
So let the stars a lesson prove — 

Let your motto be **The Right." 

Then when from earth you pass away. 

And your soul on wings of love 
Has reached the shores of endless day 

In that spirit land above, 
You '11 find inscribed above the throne. 

In characters of living light, 
The motto which has been thine own — 

The golden motto of '' The Right." 



214 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHKRN HKROKS 

WOMAN- 

RKSPONSE TO the; toast "woman." 

Fair woman, sweet woman, grand is the theme. 

Yet weak, oh ! how weak, my powers all seem 

When I dare to essay a task so divine 

As weaving a wreath her brow to entwine. 

Nowhere can I find in fancy's wide range 

Words to express my emotions so strange — 

Emotions that rise welling up in my soul 

And hold me spell-bound by their subtle control, 

Defying all efforts of tongue and of brain 

Yes, strive as I may, my struggle is vain, 

And yet, tho' I know how impotent — vain, 

My efforts must be, I will not refrain 

When called to respond to the toast you propose 

Though words are too weak to ever disclose 

The depths of my love and lasting respects 

For that best gift of God — the fair female sex. 

Shall I speak of her now as the mother who bore us 

Who kissed and caressed us and fondly watched o'er us 

Through infancy's hours and childhood's bright years 

Who smiled when we smiled and wept with our tears. 

Who nourished us through all sickness and pain ? 

Oh, name of sweet mother, all language is vain 

When I would but express or faintly impart 

A glint of that love that wells in my heart 

When that name ever sacred falls on my ear. 

Or I breathe it with reverence as now I do here. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 215 

And now of the maidens, oh, what shall I say ? 
Pile Ossa on Pelion, ye gods if I may, 
Pluck from all Heaven the orbs of the night 
Twist rainbows and rivers into garlands all bright 
Boil down Mount Vesuvius, old ^tna condense, 
And mix with chain-lightning and bring them now 

hence, 
Transform all the ocean into gems of bright thought 
And give all unto me to praise as I ought 
These angels of earth — the to-be mother pearls. 
These — these, oh, I ' * bust, " but God bless the girls ! 

Now what of our wives, those angels of joy. 

What thoughts can I give, what words can employ. 

To tell of their Constance, devotion and love ? 

O God, send me aid by that harbinger dove 

With some olive of hope, some de bon aug^ire, 

Just tribute of praise to her merit to pay 

Oh, behold while I speak, my wife at my side, 

And what shall I do if this aid be denied ? 

Just think of her wrath and my troubles to come 

When we leave this bright hall and she gets me back 

home ! 
Then send me some aid — ye muses all nine. 
Or a fate worse than death I know will be mine. 
So here's to the wives, let me fail if I must 
But to do them up well on Heaven I '11 trust 
To guide and direct me in what I shall say. 
For to fail, I well know, means the devil to pay. 



216 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

Yes ! yes ! the dear wives — sweet angels of love 
Sent down by Creator from the Heavens above, 
To guide and direct us in the ways that are right 
And to quiz us next day when we 've stayed out at 

night ; 
To renew our shirt buttons, and squander our riches, 
Point us upward to God, and to patch our old breeches ; 
To bring us sweet kidlets — a new one each year — 
Keep up with the fashions and show she don 't care 
For panics that come our hearts to appall, 
But will dress like the rest, though the heavens 

should fall. 
Whether hoop-skirt or pull-back, cut high or cut low 
Becoming or not doesn 't cut any show, 
To all that is fashion they quickly give heed 
And die of hysterics if not found in the lead. 

But in spite of all this God bless their sweet souls, 
Their love is the strength that supports and controls 
Whatever is best in the nature of man, 
And their love is inwove, web and woof in each plan. 
Which the wisdom of man has ever proposed, 
Or the cunning and strength of his hand has disclosed. 
Then here 's to the ladies, their health let us drink. 
Let each cup and each goblet be filled to the brink 
With wine, rosy wine. No ! its color of red 
Would remind her of blood her heart has oft shed 
In mourning and sorrow, and grief's bitter woe 
Resulting from wine that hath death in its glow. • 
Nor shall it be rum or sparkling champagne 
These, too, sear the heart and sully the brain. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 217 

But come noble knights, let our goblets be filled 
With that drink which our God himself hath distilled 
And sends in the raindrops and sparkling bright dew, 
A drink the most precious that mortal e'er knew — 
Yes water, pure water, sparkling and bright 
Fit emblem of purity, virtue and right. 
Then up with your cups and bright gleaming glasses 
Let us drink to our mothers, our wives and the lasses ; 
May their lives ever be as pure and as bright 
As this clear crystal water, and as free from all blight 
As the roses just kissed with the dews of God's love. 
And their souls be as white as the snows from above. 
May angels attend them and guide them in ways 
Where pleasures abound to the end of their days. 
And when at life's end, death's summons shall come 
May those angels be with them to lead them up home 
To that place built above — that Heaven supernal. 
Where in peace and in love they may live on eternal, 
Each wearing a crown as we know they all should 
Prepared by our God for the virtuous and good. 




218 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 



THE SOLDIER'S GRAVE. 

Hallowed by man and bless'd by God, 
Is ever the turf which covers the dead, 

But doubly bless'd and hallowed the sod 
Which lies o'er the martyred patriot's head. 

'Tis there that brightest flowers bloom 
And birds in peace most sweetly sing, • 

While glory there dispels the gloom 
And death itself doth lose its sting. 

'Tis there that purest tears are shed. 

Tears not of pity, but of love ; 
For tho' we weep above the dead, 

We know the spirit 's with God above. 

'Tis there that brightest dews are seen, 
'Tis there that winds most plaintive moan, 

'Tis there the moon's soft silvery sheen 
Doth lightest rest o'er Heaven's own. 

'Tis there that women love to kneel 
When prayers sincere most fluent flow 

For in their hearts they seem to feel 
That Heaven's gain is our woe. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 219 

AN ORPHAN'S STORY. 

(Written for and recited by a little g-irl on the occasion of a public 
entertainment g-iven by a lodge of the Knights of Honor.) 

Six months ago times were so bad, 
Poor father left us all so sad, 
And went in search of work to do, 
For things at home were awful blue ; 
We had no sugar, tea nor meat 
And very little else to eat. 
Our clothes were thin, our feet were bare, 
In fact starvation seemed to stare. 
Times were indeed so awful blue 
Poor father knew not what to do, 
Day after day for weeks in vain 
He tried some kind of work to gain, 
But every day 'twas just the same. 
When home at night he weary came, 
I 'd hear him to poor mother say 
" I 've not a dollar earned to-day." 
And then he 'd bow his head and sigh 
And say he wished that he could die. 
Poor mother then would try to cheer 
By saying better times were near, 
And round his neck her arms would place 
And kiss his lips and kiss his face. 
And gently stroke his roughened hair 
Striving thus to soothe his care 
Although her bleeding heart the while 
Was breaking, she would sweetly smile, 



220 A GAIvAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

And beg him look to God for aid 
And be not in his heart dismayed, 
Telling him how the ravens fed 
Poor Lijah when he prayed for bread ; 
But papa was not much on prayer 
Nor much relied on raven fare ; 
He only on himself relied 
To furnish what should be supplied 
Such as clothing, coal arid food, 
Just as all true husbands should. 
He well had learned in sorrow's school 
That trusting fate was as a rule 
A waste of time that comes to naught, 
That bread is not by waiting brought. 
" In fact," he said, ** let birds be durned ; 
If we get bread it must be earned. 
And earned by me with honest work," 
That duty he would never shirk ; 
And since no work could he get here 
He *d go and seek it else somewhere. 
So telling mamma not to cry 
He kissed and bade us all good-bye. 
But hunger long had made him weak 
And robbed the color from his cheek. 
Thus faint and weak he went away, 
And^I and mother day by day 
Waited trusting soon to hear 
From him, some news our hearts to cheer. 
But days went by, and when at length 
Poor mother wasted of her strength 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 221 

Through grief and hunger went to bed, 

I then was forced to beg for bread. 

What else was there for me to do, 

While mother daily weaker grew 

And needed me by her sick bed 

To bathe her hands and cool her head ? 

And oft so hungry I would feel 

That there beside her bed I 'd kneel 

And pray to Him who reigns on high 

To let poor me and mamma die ; 

But God was good and willed it not 

That we should die, though sad our lot, 

And so we lived on day by day 

No star of hope to send a ray 

To cheer us in our sad dismay 

With promise of a better day. 

Poor mother daily weaker grew 

While her sad eyes of liquid blue 

Grew dim with weeping and with pain — 

With grieving and with longings vain 

For papa, who had not returned 

And of whose death we had not learned. 

But by and by a letter came 

From place out west, just now the name 

I can 't recall, but this it said 

That my poor darling Pa was dead. 

And while though far from home he died 

That kindly friends were by his side 

And gave to him all needful care ; 

In fact, that he had brothers there 



222 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

Who stayed beside him night and day 
Until his soul had passed away, 
Then gave him funeral honors such, 
As for a Prince, were not too much. 
The writer then went on to tell 
That he had known my papa well, 
Said they were brothers of a band — 
The noblest, greatest in the land. 
And said that Knights of Honor true. 
Would come to see us and would do 
What e'er they could to cheer our grief,— 
To comfort us and give relief. 
A few weeks later, three or four. 
We heard a knocking at the door 
And opening it three men I met. 
Whose coming I will ne'er forget. 
They were so gentle and so kind ; 
So genteel, manly and refined. 
And talked so nicely all the while 
They even made poor mamma smile. 
And oh, it eased my hunger's pain 
To see poor mamma smile again. 
For she had been so long you know 
Bowed down by sickness, want and woe ; 
So long since I had seen a trace 
Of pleasure in her pallid face ; 
I scarcely could believe my eyes 
So great indeed was my surprise. 
Just what it was that made her smile 
I '11 tell you in a little while. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 223 

They said that they had come to bring 

The Knights of Honor's offering, — 

Two thousand dollars in a pile, 

Yes, it was that which made her smile. 

And now you all can plainly see 

I 'm not so poor as I used to be : 

My clothes are nice, my shoes are fine, 

And see my rings just how they shine, 

And when I walk out on the street 

I notice every boy I meet 

Gives a smiling glance at me, 

And I 'm just happy as can be. 

But I 've determined in my mind, 

I '11 never marry till I find 

A really handsome nice young man, 

Who is a member of the clan 

Of Knights of Honor, brave and true, 

Who duty knows and dares to do 

What is just, what e'er is right, — 

As does each valiant woithy Knight. 

Yes, he who wins my heart and hand. 

Must be a member of that Band 

Of Knights of Honor, generous, free, 

Just like my papa used to be. 




224 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

OUR CONFEDERATE DEAD*^ 

Wake up my muse, from slumber rise, 
Bright is the earth and fair the skies ; 
The birds are singing everywhere, 
And flowers sweet perfume the air ; 
Sweet gentle spring has come again, 
And everywhere on hill and plain 
Artistic Nature's works are seen 
In festoons fair and banners green. 
Then wake my muse, attune thy lyre, 
My soul with melody inspire. 
And let me now the thoughts impart 
That echo in my loyal heart 
And surge within my heaving breast, 
Tho' all in vain to be expressed. 
No simple rhyming roundelay 
Will now suffice, for I essay 
To sing in high and rapt'rous strain 
The praises of our hallowed slain. 
Yes, 'tis of these my song shall be, 
Brave martyrs, they, to Hberty. 
And oh, my muse could never ask 
A more sublime or holy task. 
For never since the world began. 
Since God created living man. 
Has ever more heroic band 
Been marshaled out in any land 



* Written for and read ofl Memorial Day, April 26th, 1896, by request 
of Camp Hardee, U. C. V. 



15 



AND OTHKR POEMS. 225 

Than they who took the sword in hand 
To battle for our Southern land; 
Nor braver men have ever bled, 
Nor better blood was ever shed, 
Nor shed for cause more pure and grand. 
Than was that of our Southern band. 
Then would to God my muse could rise 
On soaring wing to yonder skies 
And pluck the shining orbs of night 
Like roses, that in garlands bright, 
Each star might shine an immortelle 
For those who for my country fell. 
I durst, if such I could but do, 
Snatch from yon dome of azure hue 
Each sun and moon and satellite 
That beams within the crown of night 
For this my song, that every line 
Might scintillate and brightly shine 
Effulgent, glorious and so grand 
That everywhere on sea and land 
The hosts of earth entranced should stand, 
And up on high the angels' band 
Should cease their songs and gladly hear 
A strain so glorious and so clear. 
Yet even then 'twere all in vain. 
And poor indeed the rapt'rous strain. 
For though each word and every thought 
With inspiration's glow was fraught, 
And voiced with grand crescendo swell, 



226 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

In praise of those who fought and fell, 
'Twould be in vain and fail indeed 
To give to them one tithe the meed 
Of praises due, or faintly tell 
How God-like, grand and brave they fell ; 
For mortal pen, nor mortal tongue. 
Nor angel choir hath ever sung 
A song of praise in lofty strain 
Half worthy of our martyred slain. 
And yet for all, my humble muse. 
When called to sing will not refuse. 
But catching inspiration's gleam 
From Heaven sent, my noble theme 
Should be enough my soul to fire. 
To warm me and my heart inspire, 
And make each word and every line 
With beauty and with brilliance shine. 
For nobler theme was never given 
To man on earth or saint in Heaven 
Than that which stirs my soul to-day- — 
The praise of men who wore the gray ! 
From burning Sumter, by the sea. 
To Appomattox's apple tree ; 
From Chesapeake in Maryland 
To border shores of Rio Grande, 
Like demigods from first to last 
They met the raging battle blast, 
And daunted not by thunder crash ^ 

Of cannonade, or lightning flash 



AND OTHER POEMS. 227 

Of musketry, all undismayed, 

With bayonet and flashing blade 

They struggled on, or fighting fell, 

Their only cry, the rebel yell, 

Which in its wild defiant notes 

Outrang the brazen cannon's throats, 

And higher, louder seemed to rise. 

As on they fought, till earth and skies 

Reverb'rant shook, 'till at the last 

High Heaven looked and stood aghast 

To see the wreck and carnage dire 

Left in their wake of stubborn ire. 

But look to-day — how changed the scene, 

Those battle-fields are wrapped in green. 

And beauteous flowers, fresh in bloom, 

Distilling out their sweet perfume. 

While high o'er all is sweetly heard 

The peaceful notes of mocking bird, 

And o'er each mound that marks the grave 

Where rests the bones of martyred brave. 

Our lovely women sweet and fair, 

Will come to-day with garlands rare 

Of evergreens and richest blooms 

To decorate those hallowed tombs ; 

And as they kneel and place them there, 

With fervent heart will send a prayer 

To Him who reigns beyond the sky, 

To bless their ashes where they lie, 



228 A GALAXY OF SOUTHKRN HEROES 

And grant to each in Heaven a place, 
Who fought for home and pride of race, 
And died defending Southern rights. 
True to their God, chivakous knights. 
And in that last great coming day, 
When time on earth shall cease for aye. 
And God shall call from out the skies 
To all the dead of earth to rise, 
I trust to see in that great day 
Our marshaled hosts in grand array. 
Each laurel-crowned with victor's wreath. 
Triumphant over sin and death. 
Soar up in one great column grand 
To that supreme celestial land. 
Where angels and archangels bright 
Shall open wide the gates of light 
And gladly hail and welcome them, 
Whilst cherubim and seraphim. 
And everything with voice to sing. 
Shall join to make the heavens ring 
With gladsome shout and welcome song 
To God's redeemed — the mighty^throng 
Whose praises now we sing with pride. 
The bravest men that ever died. 




\ 

AND OTHER POEMS. 229 

THE UNFORTUNATE'S PLEA. 

Tho' clouds of adversity have darkened my life, 
And the star of my fate goes down in the strife, 
Tho' my destiny yields me but troubles and care. 
And my poor aching heart is rent with despair ; 
My lips to the struggles within shall be mute, 
And the shafts that are hurled my soul to confute 
Tho' striking their mark, the wounds I '11 conceal, 
And bravely repress the anguish I feel. 

Tho' my friends all forsake and the world doth con- 
demn, 
Tiio' my breast with its sorrow is full to the brim, 
Though my hopes are all blasted and my prospects 

are fled, 
Thank God for His strength ; my conscience, not dead. 
Still glows with its ardour for justice and right. 
And my soul still unawed by oppression and might, 
Bids a defiance to the wrath that is hurled, 
And gives scorn in return for the scorn of the world. 

Never my motives have been understood, 
Or else they have basely been misconstrued ; 
My actions suspected, my kindness abused, 
My sympathies spurned, my good will refused ; 
The serpent of slander hath traversed my fame. 
And his trail so polluting hath sullied my name ; 
But the 'lurements of creed, of power and gold, 
I 've spurned from my breast like wolves from the fold. 



230 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

And never will I while on earth I remain 
Seek from the world its plaudits to gain, 
Nor bow to the shrines of fashion and pride, 
Nor steer my course with the popular tide ; 
For policy's rule, and bigotry's reign. 
Awake in my soul its deepest disdain, 
And I turn in my loathing of hate and disgust 
From the soulless throngs, so false and unjust. 

They boast of religion and love for mankind. 
But damning a man for the bent of his mind, 
Cry infidel, heretic, knave and fool, 
To all who refuse their shackles and rule ; 
Dissenters they place on Procrustean bed 
And shorten their limb or sever their head, 
Or lengthen them out by chains and by screws, 
Thus making them gauge to their orthodox views. 

Fraud and chicanery in politics rule. 

And the greater the knave, the better the tool, 

And if he, in fraud, ignore the just laws. 

The louder will be the acclaim of applause. 

Thus goes the world with popular sway. 

Vice is triumphant and justice gives way. 

And judges in ermine their benches disgrace, 

Whilst the people are taxed to keep them in place. 

'Tis ever the same, in state and in church. 
When charity's wanted 'tis found in the lurch ; 
Religion and freedom exists but in name. 
They both have their riders and have a like aim. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 231 

'Tis self aggrandizement, wealth, power and fanae, 
And the means they pursue the devil would shame ; 
But to be not aboard with the popular tide 
Is to have them abuse and your conscience deride. 

But why should I sigh, or my race execrate, 

When God is supreme over church and the state, 

And sooner or later will his vengeance be hurled, 

I'o right all the wrongs and sins of the world. 

Yes, soon or late, with Him must abide 

The judgment of all of whatever side ; 

Then the weak shall go up and the strong shall come 

down 
And justice shall wear the laurel and crown. 

Yes, life is but transient and short at the best. 
And beyond the dark grave is the haven of rest; 
And there shall my spirit, when its trials are done, 
Mount to the throne my conscience hath won, 
And receive from my God, for whom I have wrought. 
The palms and the crown for the battles I 've fought. 
And folding my pinions, forever I '11 rest 
In the mansions prepared for the weak and oppressed. 




232 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

THE CRANK, 

Let poets sing of priest or king, 

And prate of warriors great, 
Or praise in verse, the men who curse 

Our land in halls of state, 
No little lord nor man of sword, 

Nor statesman need we thank ; 
My muse I '11 ask a nobler task — 

To sing of the humble crank. 

First in the fight for all that 's right 

A trenchant sword he wields, 
And undismayed his flashing blade 

Leads on to glorious fields ; 
Altho' unknown he toils alone. 

Without reward or thank, 
Of blessings rare our greatest are 

First from some humble crank. 

Galileo was, well we know, 

A star-crazed crank at best. 
The' first he found, this earth was round. 

And thus his millions blest. 
Columbus, too, the brave and true. 

Colossal crank was he, 
Was first in mind, a world to find. 

Which lay beyond the sea. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



233 



Old Harvey, too, with genius true, 

Whose crank-won inspiration, 
Discerned the course from cardie source, 

Of sanguine circulation. 
And Jenner great, let 's not forget, 

Who taught us vaccination. 
Was but a crank of highest rank 

Who blessed our whole creation. 

But should I name each crank of fame 

And tell of all they 've done, 
A story bright I would indite. 

Of all earth's victories won. 
Then here 's to cranks, aliens or Yanks, 

No matter what their birth. 
To them I '11 sing with honest ring, 

They are the gods of earth. 




234 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 



OUR SUNNY LAND AND SOUTHERN DEAD. 

Fair sunny land — home of the brave 

How wondrous and supremely blest ! 
Like billows on tempestuous sea, 

Emotions rise within my breast, 
And surging with a pathos deep. 

Sweep o'er my soul in currents grand, 
When e'er I hear or breathe thy name, 

Sweet sunny South, my native land. 

What other land 'neath Heaven's dome 

By braver men was ever trod ? 
What other land on earth is known 

So lavishly endowed of God ? 
Where else on earth such valorous deeds, 

As by our Southern patriots done, 
And where, oh where such women true. 

As here beneath our Southern sun ? 

Then wake ! oh, wake ! my muse awake ! 

A glorious theme my soul inspires ; 
From blue empyrean heights above 

Come warm me with celestial fires. 
Attune my tongue to grandeur's strain, 

And let my words with genius blaze, 
Whilst I the glorious task essay — 

Our martyred Southern hosts to praise. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 235 

But no, ah, no ! the plea is vain. 

No human tongue in words can frame, 
Nor wreathe in thoughts however bright, 

The measure of their deathless fame. 
But everywhere on earth and sea, 

Where 'er a patriot's heart shall beat. 
The welkin with their praise shall ring. 

Till eternity and time shall meet. 

But till some nobler muse than mine, 

Evoked by greater bard than I, 
And aided by a power divine. 

From bright supernal realms on high, 
Shall grasp the poet's flaming pen 

With superhuman force to write, 
Be mine the will if not the power 

Their glorious records to recite. 

And yet tho' frail and halt of speech. 

An humble chaplet I would weave, 
To place upon our soldiers' graves. 

And grandeur's task to others leave ; 
For well I know some noble bard, 

Some poet greater far than I, 
Shall yet arise and grandly sing, 

Of those who sleep, but cannot die. 

And till the cycling years of time, 

Have into dark oblivion rolled 
All love of home and native land, 

Their valorous deeds shall still be told ; 



236 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

And yearning youth at mother's knee 

Shall, in the ages yet to be, 
By grand example of their deeds, 

Learn how to die for liberty. 

Thermopylae and Marathon 

For ages held the captive eye 
Of all who looked for honored fields, 

Where men had taught us how to die ; 
But now the gaze of all mankind. 

Who seek for glory's proudest shrines, 
Must turn to Sumter and Bull Run, 

To Gettysburg and Seven Pines. 

Alexander and the Caesars great, 

Long held the crown of proudest fame; 
But lusterless their crowns appear, 

Dimmed in the light of him I name — 
Of him whose hand ne'er sought to hold 

The sceptre over men yet free, 
For now, fame's brightest shining gem, 

Beams in the crown of Robert Lee. 

Joan of Arc, the martial queen. 

Led forth her ranks in grand array. 
And carved her name on fame's proud fane 

By valorous deeds in battle fray ; 
But grander than her grandest march 

Is that by Southern women led, 
When marching with spring garlands bright 

To deck the graves of Southern dead. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 237 

And grander than all cenotaphs 

That ever hand of mortal reared ; 
More brilliant than all banners dear 

That ever on the breeze appeared ; 
More beautiful than brightest stars 

That shine in vaulted dome of night 
Are those bright tears which beauty sheds 

For those who fought for home and right. 

Nor will they as they come to-day, 

With evergreens and brightest blooms, 
To decorate with tender care 

Our sleeping heroes' silent tombs, 
Forget or slight those foemen brave, 

Who proved through flame their courage true, 
But true to Southern chivalry. 

With flowers rare their graves will strew. 

And you, ye war-scarred remnant brave. 

Who loved the cause our Davis led. 
Will never forget sweet Winnie dear 

Now that her noble sire is dead. 
And every weeping orphan's tear, 

And every widow's plaintive plea, 
Will wake a warm, responsive chord 

In every heart of Camp Hardee. 

And in that last great coming morn. 
When God shall bid all sleepers rise 

From earth and seas to camps on high, 
Joined heart and hand beyond the skies. 



238 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROE)S 

In armistice of eternal peace, 
We '11 bivouac amid the stars, 

And reverence through eternity 

The stars and stripes and stars and bars. 



TILL I COME BACK AGAIN* 

No, I '11 not forget you, darling. 

Though roaming far away. 
Your loving smile shall light my path 

Wherever I may stray ; 
And every loving word of thine 

Shall e'er with me remain. 
And banish every gloomy thought 

Till I come back again. 

The many happy days with you 

Were all too quickly passed, 
They were so full of blissful joy 

I knew they could not last ; 
But in my heart a star of hope 

Shines not, I trust in vain. 
And by its light I '11 steer my course 

Till I come back again. 

In lands afar beyond the sea 

My fate may be to roam, 
And weeks and months and years may pass 

Ere I turn back to home ; 



AND OTHER POKMS. 239 

But thy bright face in memory set 

Shall never dim nor wane, 
Or lose its charm to light my soul 

Till I come back again. 

*Tis only for your sake, my dear, 

That I must leave you now, 
So let me kiss and clear away 

The clouds upon your brow, 
Then with your blessing let me go. 

Stern fortune's smile to gain. 
And vow once more you '11 constant prove 

Till I come back again. 

Then should misfortune overtake 

And pall me with dismay, 
This thought a talisman shall be 

To break all evil's sway. 
It is your promise to be mine, 

Which like some sweet refrain 
Will ever echo in my heart, 

Till I come back again. 

Now, au revoir, but not farewell. 

With one last kiss of love, 
To be a seal upon the vow 

That you will constant prove. 
And that no other loving swain 

Shall in your heart obtain 
The place that I so fondly claim 

Till I come back again. 



240 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

SLANDERERS OF GORDON. 

(Written when Gordon was candidate for Governor.) 

I can 't but feel within me rise 

A deep indignant flame 
When e'er I hear ungrateful tongue 

Dare to assail the name 
Of him to whom we are endeared 

By every sacred tie — 
Of him to whom 'twere pleasure yet 

To follow and to die. 

For, oh, I loathe, despise and hate 

The poltroon and the knave, 
Who, serpent-like, will turn and strike 

The hand once stretched to save. 
Oh yes, oh yes, ingratitude. 

Of all man's sins the worst. 
If there be deeper hells than hell. 

May it be deepest curst. 

Who but the bribe-bought ruffians 

And self-ignobling clan. 
Would so disgrace our noble State, 

By slandering such a man? 
A man whose great, chivalrous heart 

Ne'er hath a pulsing throb 
That does not beat for fellow-man. 

For country and for God. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 241 

Go to the hundred battle-fields 

Where he has bravely stood, 
And where, eight times upon their plains. 

He poured his manly blood — 
Go ask of those historic grounds, 

Both vale and riverside, 
If ever duty called to him 

And he the call denied. 

And ask you, too, of those who stooa 

Beside him on the fields, 
If ever once he turned to foes 

And showed his back or heels. 
And ask of those who faced him there, 

Those heroes of the blue, 
And let him answer, him who dare, 

To say he was untrue. 

Then, when the storm of war had passed 

And all our hopes were riven, 
When satraps, with their bayonets 

(May they be cursed of Heaven) 
Put alien thieves and scalawags 

To rule and rob our State ; 
Who was it then who led the van 

To shield us from that fate? 



16 



242 



A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 



Oh, 'twas that matchless, God-like man, 

That Christian soldier brave, 
The statesman and philanthropist, 

Whom God in goodness gave 
To point the way of patriots 

Who seek the prize of fame, 
And bless us with the heritage 

Of one bright, spotless name. 

Then, hark ! ye miscreants and knaves. 

Your lying tongues be stilled, 
For every Southern patriot 

With more than scorn is filled. 
And hark ye, too, there is a God 

That 's ruling overhead, 
And hush, lest Ananias-like, 

That God may strike you dead. 




AND OTHKR POKMS. 243 

WAITING AT THE RIVER** 

** Lord, how long shall I have to wait 
Before I cross the river?" 
I long to reach that other shore, 
Where I can rest forever. 

My journey, Lord, has been so long, 

Life's wilderness so dreary ; 
My burden's been so hard to bear; 

My soul is faint and weary. 

Then haste, O Lord, to speak the word. 

And bid my waiting cease, 
I fain would leave this dreary shore. 

And reach the land of peace. 

Whilst here I wait, O^Lord, I bear 

Most poignant griefs and pain. 
My weary soul now turns to thee, 

And pleads that land to gain. 

'Tis dark and chilly on this shore. 

But over the stream I see 
The sun still shining warm and bright, 

Where loved ones wait for me. 

My heart, O Lord, has long been there, 

With all I love the best ; 
Oh, send thy angels, precious Lord, 

And lead me to my rest. 



* Almost the last words of my ag-ed father, Rev, Dr T. H, Dossier, 
while on his dying- bed, were : " Oh, Lord, how long- shall I have to wait 
before I cross the river ?" 



244 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

My father's face I long to see, 
My saintly mother's, too, 

And many children gone before, 
O Lord, are there with you. 

Do, precious Saviour, haste to speak. 
And bid me now to come. 

And join the bright celestial band 
In my eternal home. 



''OUR ORDER HERE/^ 

PERORATION IN RESPONSE TO A TOAST. 

But I forget. 'Tis not of our fair city and her match- 
less wealth, by lavish hand of God bestowed, 
that I would speak. 

But 'tis of something nobler far — 
A jewel bright — a shining star — 
The brightest gem which decks her brow. 
Is that which I would champion now. 
But should I speak, as well I might. 
Of furnaces whose fires bright 
Make noonday of our darkest night 
And paint the skies with lurid light ; 
Or, tell how wondrous here combine, 
The wealth of coal and iron mine, 
And how our manufactures great 
The riches bring from every State ; 



AND OTHER POKMS. 245 

Or, boastful, tell in wondrous tale 

The matchless glories of this vale, 

Your pardon just I might receive, 

Tho' some, perchance, would scarce believe. 

For such the story 'twould but seem 

Like fiction or a summer's dream. 

But, as I said, 'tis not of these 

I '11 speak my hearers now to please. 

A grander theme my soul inspires 

And warms me with ennobling fires. 

My theme is of our order grand. 

The noblest in this glorious land. 

And tho' our members are but few. 

Each Knight is valiant, brave and true. 

And counts but wasted every sun 

Which sees not some good action done. 

Some noble act or generous deed 

In keeping with our Order's creed, 

For Knights of Honor ever hold 

Kind actions more than finest gold. 

To shield the widows and provide 

For orphans is our greatest pride ; 

To raise the fallen, help the weak. 

And dry the tear on mourner's cheek ; 

To help our brothers in distress. 

And ev'ry home we enter, bless ; 

To carry sunshine and relief 

Wherever hang the clouds of grief. 

Reviving hope and stilling fear. 

These are our daily missions here. 



246 A GAIvAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

To sit beside the bed of pain 

When fever burns a brother's brain 

And nurse him back to health again. 

From works like these we ne'er refrain, 

And when our great dictator, God, 

Bids brother Knight pass 'neath the rod 

And enter that grand lodge on high — 

The lodge supreme, above the sky — 

We fold his hands upon his breast. 

And when his corpse with prayers we've blest, 

We give him cortege to the grave 

And there with tears his dust we lave, 

And flowers strew upon his bier : 

I speak this, of our Order here. 



MOURN, GEORGIA, MOURN 

(Written during Gen. Gordon's campaign for Governor.) 

Mourn, Georgia, mourn, my native State, 
Sad seems, indeed, thy bitter fate : 
Thy banner proud that never trailed. 
By demagogues is now assailed. 
And thy bright star of rising fame 
Seems doomed at last to set in shame. 



AND OTHE^R POKMS. 247 

Thou hast before been sore distressed, 
When alien foes thy strength suppressed, 
And held thee down 'neath tyrant heel. 
Whilst scalawags could rob and steal ; 
But tyrant's hate and heels to crush 
Could never give thee cause to blush. 

Unhappy then as was thy curse, 
Thy bitter fate must now be worse — 
To feel the shame, to see and know 
'Tis thy own sons inflict thy woe ; 
That they, who nurtured on thy soil. 
Now robber-like would thee despoil. 

Hear now that mob in scorn deride 
Thy patriots and thy men of pride. 
Whom they have dragged with malice vile 
From seats which chumps will now defile — ^ 
From places high which gave thee fame. 
Which now, alas, must bring thee shame. 

But hear me, O fair Georgia, hark ! 
There yet remains one man of mark. 
Whose hand thy honor yet might save. 
He is that patriot — Gordon — brave. 
Spurn not his proffer, ere too late 
In sackcloth thou shalt mourn thy fate. 



248 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

MY LOSAHATCHIE HOME.* 

In these days of awful panics, 

(Strikes are heard of everywhere), 
While Congress sits and piddles. 

And starvation seems to stare, 
When all business goes to pieces. 

And the devil's on a tear, 
In vain I long for refuge 

From my troubles and my care. 

And my heart is filled with longing 

For that dear old mountain stream, 
Losahatchie, on whose surface, 

Like a vision in a dream, 
I can always see reflected 

Mount Coloma's rugged dome, 
And the little vine-clad cottage 

That I used to call my home. 

Even now in heart I 'm longing 

To go back there once more. 
And with line and pole to wander 

Along its shady shore, 
Where, as a careless, barefoot boy, 

I once was wont to roam, 
When life was free from sorrow. 

In my Losahatchie home. 



* Losahatchie is the name of a beautiful mountain stream in North 
Alabama. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 249 

Yes, my dear old Losahatchie ! 

Since I wandered from thy shore, 
The world has not all seemed to be 

What I dreamed in days of yore. 
And thy cooling shades and fountains. 

And thy vales of fertile loam 
Now fill my soul with longing 

For my Losahatchie home. 

Yes, yes ; O Losahatchie ! 

Thou queen of mountain streams. 
How often have I sought thee 

In my nightly troubled dreams. 
To lave my fevered temples 

In thy cooling spray and foam, 
'Neath the spreading beech and maples, 

At my Losahatchie home. 



IN PARADISE. 

In a deep, unbroken forest, beside a flowing stream, 
I laid me down one afternoon, and, sleeping had a 

dream ; 
The pearly gates of paradise were open to my view. 
And I saw therein the faces that once on earth I 

knew. 

No jeweled king or beaded priest did there my vis- 
ion trace, 

No warrior with his sword and plume, with epaulets 
and lace ; 



250 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

No tattered coat on pauper's back, no miser with his 

gold, 
Nor any sign of earthly pomp did I therein behold. 

But every one was robed alike, both of great and 

lowly birth — 
Only crowns of different lustre told their stage of 

virtuous worth 
And those who had ten talents sat nearer to the 

throne 
Than did the more unfortunates, who never had but 

one. 

For in Heaven, as on earth, talents supremely reign, 
For God loves wisdom better than He does a shallow 

brain ; 
And according as the talents are improved, which he 

has given, 
So must be their lot and rank with the angel hosts of 

Heaven. 

Some brighter far than others shone, but all were 

bright with grace, 
No cloud of grief on any brow could there my vision 

trace ; 
I saw the Christian and the Jew, united hand in hand, 
Dwelling in unbroken peace in that celestial land. 

I saw distinctive features of every human race. 
And types of every nation in that sweet, holy place ; 



AND OTHKR POEMS. 251 

Yes, there were men of every tribe, of every rank 

and creed, 
Whose tasks on earth had been to do their great 

Creator's meed. 

I saw the wild barbarian, and the untaught heathen 

there. 
Who were not saved by water, by crucifix nor prayer; 
All dwelt in peace together, from priestly hells apart. 
For God had known their talents, and judged them 

by the heart. 

In supremacy of justice, and in mercy's boundless 

sway, 
God, with love and charity, had swept their sins 

away. 
And there, in blissful union, their troubles ne'er 

appal. 
They praised the great Jehovah, whose hand had 

saved them all. 

Yes, He who made this world, 'mid ten thousand 
worlds to roll, 

Whose hands created Heaven, and man with death- 
less soul. 

Who controls the mighty oceans, which stretch from 
pole to pole, 

Never made or framed a creed to damn a human soul. 



252 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 



MEMORIAL DAY INVOCATION. 

Be pleased, O God ! to bless this day, 
And bless the tributes which we lay 

Upon the consecrated graves 
Of patriots who wore the gray. 

Quick to obey their country's call. 
When tyrants threatened to enthrall, 

They rallied to the new-born flag. 
Ready in her defense to fall. 

For justice and for rights denied. 
They met the raging battle's tide. 

Which foemen waged against their land. 
And in her cause they nobly died. 

For native land they fought and bled. 
And better blood was never shed, 

Nor ever shed for better cause. 
Than was that of our Southern dead. 

Nor ever yet for any land 

Was marshalled out a braver band. 
Than those who stood on Southern soil 

To battle for their native land. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 253 



SIX AND THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

Since six and thirty years ago, 

What changes time has wrought, 
Wild roses sweet now bud and blow 

Where battles then were fought. 
O'er hardened glebe where armies trod 

The plowman drives afield, 
In peaceful trust and faith in God 

For bounteous harvest-yield. 

The tinkling bell of gentle flock 

Is heard on grassy plain 
Once seared and torn in battle shock, 

And piled with human slain. 
Whilst pretty homes now crown the hills 

Where frowning forts then stood. 
And limpid flows the purling rills, 

Once red with patriot's blood. 

The wild and frenzied hate of men. 

Thank God, is changed to love. 
And now instead of battle din, 

The voice of cooing dove 
Floats softly on the summer breeze 

In cadence sweet and clear. 
And lulls the warrior now at ease 

At home with loved ones dear. 



254 A GAI<AXY OF SOUTHKRN HKROKS 

Grim, blackened ruins that whilom stood 

In paths where armies led, 
With lighted torch, through fields of blood, 

Are gone, and now instead, 
With joy, behold, in grandeur sprung 

From out those rueful fires 
A newer South, whose rapt'rous tongue 

A newer song inspires. 

She sings of re-united land. 

Where hearts and hands unite. 
She sings with joy of union grand, 

Of happy homes so bright 
With love and peace and plenty blest 

Where hangs the rusting blade, 
That erstwhile flashed on battle crest. 

When war this land dismayed. 

But whilst she sings, remembers still 

The South of auld lang syne. 
That dear old South whose memories thrill 

This poor old heart of mine ; 
For never once can I forget 

The glory and the pride 
Which, hallowed, lingers round her yet, 

Till I in death abide. 

No wail of woe or hate or spite 

Discordant mars the strain. 
Her cause we know was just and right 

'Twas freedom to maintain, 



AND OTHER POEMS. 255 

And though by whelming odds oppressed 

Her flag from her was torn, 
Before the world it stands confessed 

The purest ever borne. 

And though it never floats again, 

Though never more unfurled, 
Its story true without a stain 

Will glorify the world. 
For those who bore that banner bright 

Through seas of gore and flame 
A record left on glory's height 

Of never dying fame. 

And whilst the cycling whirl of time 

Unceasing, onward rolls, 
The record of their deeds sublime 

Beneath its sacred folds 
Will, brightening with the lapse of years, 

In brighter brilliance flame. 
Till every orb in astral spheres 

Shall see and pale with shame. 




256 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

WELCOME SONG. 

All hail ! Great Incohonee, 

Great Sachem, wise and true, 
Our warriors, braves and chieftains 

Most gladly welcome you, 
In Freedom and in Friendship 

United firm and strong, 
We gladly hail our chieftain. 

With this our welcome song. 

CHORUS : 

Then welcome to our wigwam, 
Our hearts are warm and true, 

Come share our corn and venison. 
And drink our skila-wa-boo. 

Within these fertile valleys, 

And on these verdant plains, 
The tomahawk we 've buried 

And peace and plenty reigns. 
Our trails but lead to pleasure, 

No war-whoop here resounds, 
And now we bid you welcome. 

To these our hunting grounds. 

CHORUS : 

Then welcome to our wigwam, 
Our hearts are warm and true, 

Come share our corn and venison, 
And drink our skila-wa-boo. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



257 



Our hunters are the truest 

That ever grasped a bow, 
Our warriors are the bravest 

That ever faced a foe. 
Our squaws and papooses, 

And all our maidens bright. 
Will hail you, Incohonee, 

With rapture and delight) 

CHORUS : 

Then welcome to our wigwam. 
Our hearts are warm and true, 

Come share our corn and venison, 
And drink our skila-wa-boo. 




17 



258 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHKKN H:SR0KS 

A DREAM THAT WAS NOT ALL A DREAM. 

Beside my sweet darling's grave in the city of the 

dead, 
I sat until the sinking sun's last ray of light had fled ; 
And all alone, I heeded not the ebbing of the day, 
For my heart was in the grave, and my thoughts 

were far away. 

One by one, the little stars came forth, twinkling 
overhead. 

Until the whole of heaven was with beauty over- 
spread ; 

The moon, then like a silver ship, came mounting up 
above, 

And floated gently onward, as if moved by hands of 
love. 

Bright flowers, blooming round me, lent a sweetness 

to the air, 
But I heeded not their fragrance, nor noticed they 

were there ; 
And there beside the grave, while silence reigned 

supreme, 
O'ercome at last by weeping, I slept and had a dream. 

I saw the heavens part — heard a sound of thunder 

loud. 
Then saw descending earthward a shining silver cloud ; 
And reclining on that cloud, with bright angels by 

her side, 
I recognized my darling, my sweet angelic bride. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 259 

And as the cloud came slowly down, such music 

filled my ears 
As I never, never heard before upon this vale of 

tears ; 
And when it came to where I was, it seemed there to 

divide. 
And my sweet, angelic darling was sitting by my 

side. 

Around her forehead twined a wreath of softest glow- 
ing light, 

And^the raiment that she wore was a robe of spotless 
white ; 

Halos of radiant light all round about us shone, 

And the music of her voice was like the zithern's 
sweetest tone. 

She told me of a place above, a happy spirit land, 
Where everything is beautiful, majestical and grand ; 
Where the God of nature sits on a glory beaming 

throne. 
Where life is life eternal, and where sorrow is 

unknown. 

She told me of friends and kindred all dwelling there 

above, 
Andjrom each she brought a message to remind me 

of their love ; 
Then bidding me good-bye, said she 'd wait me on 

the shore 
Of that bright land celestial where there 's parting 

never more. 



260 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROES 

Then on that cloud I saw her take a gentle, upward 

flight, 
And watching till she reached the sky, she vanished 

from nny sight ; 
And tho' I know 'twas but a dream, a delusion of the 

brain, 
I cannot yet help wishing she may come in dreams 

again. 



BLITHESOME LITTLE LIBBY* 

Pretty little skating girl, 
Fairest in the mazy whirl, 
Winsome, charming and as fair 
And graceful as a bird of air — 
Blithesome little Libby. 

Pretty little skating belle, 
Playful as a young gazelle. 
Brightly beams her hazel eyes 
As around the rink she flies, 
Blithesome little Libby. 

Pretty little skating queen, 
Fairer form was never seen. 
Like a vision in a dream 
Memories of her doth seem — 
Blithesome little Libby. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 261 

FORGET ME NOT. 

Forget me not whilst memory's chain 

Holds sacred, firm and true, 
Nor let thy heart be steeped in pain 

If I can bear its pain for you. 

Forget me not whilst in thy heart 
Thy life's blood ebbs and flows, 

Nor let from me thy faith depart — 
Forbid me not to share thy woes. 

Forget me not where'er thou be, 

Whatsoever fate be thine. 
On desert's shore or lonely sea. 

Remember, love, that I am thine. 

Forget me not when shades of death 

Shall dwell upon thy breast. 
But with thy last departing breath 

Remember me who loved thee best. 

A FRAGMENT. 

Let angels that hover around us in air 

Keeping record of joys that bloom in the heart. 
Proclaim from their tablets the dearest joy there. 

And in whispers of spirit we '11 hear them impart ; 
It is the sweet pleasure when exiles we roam 

Of knowing that loved ones remember us still — 
That dear ones we 've left behind us at home 

Let thoughts of ourselves their memories fill. 



262 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

CLUB SONG No- U 

(Air— Bonnie Blue Flag-.) 

We are a band of patriots, 

United heart and hand, 
To shield the honor of our race, 

In this our glorious land. 
The blood that flows within our veins 

We never will disgrace 
By sharing our heritage 

With earth's ignoble race. 

CHORUS : 

Then rouse ! arouse ! 

Let white men all arouse ! 
Maintaining white supremacy, 

The cause which we espouse. 

By laws divine, the right to rule 

This white man's land we claim. 
And true to our Caucasian blood, 

We '11 not submit to shame ; 
Nor will we e'er in peace submit 

To laws which stultify. 
But, in the majesty of right, 

We '11 rule this land or die. 

CHORUS : 

Then rouse ! arouse ! 

Let white men all arouse ! 
Maintaining white supremacy, 

The cause which we espouse. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 263 



CLUB SONG No- 2. 

(Air — America.) 

My comrades, true and brave, 
This land our fathers gave 

To us alone ; 
Unsullied, pure and bright. 
No shame our flag shall blight, 
And we will in our might 

Defend our own. 

Lift up your shields my braves ; 
Think of those honored graves 

Your fathers fill. 
Think of your honored line 
Think of your rights divine 
To shield sweet freedom's shrine 

And swear you will. 

Men of Caucasian birth, 
Regents of all the earth 

United stand. 
Sharing each other's care. 
Shielding our women fair — 
Be this thy daily prayer ; 

God bless our land. 



264 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

CLUB SONG No. 3* 

(Air — Greenland's Icy Mountains.) 

Fromlgolden California 

Tof rocky coast of Maine, 
From gulf-washed Alabama 

To farther'st Northern plain, 
True'patriotic white men 

Are rising in their might. 
For law and white supremacy, 

For God, and for the right. 

Then welcome, stranger, welcome, 

We hail you as a friend ; 
Come join our ranks and help us 

To shield and to defend 
Our homes and women's honor, 

Our nation's flag and laws. 
And God will keep and bless you — 

For sacred is our cause. 

Nor will we, free-born Regents 

Of Anglo-Saxon race, 
Ere bow in weak submission 

Or yield to such disgrace 
As ever to surrender 

The right to rule this land ; 
But true to God and country 

United we will stand. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 265 

CLUB SONG No. 4. 

(Air — Auld Lang" Syne.) 

Good night ! Good night ! Taps now resound, 

May guardian angels keep 
A faithful watch by every couch 

Where comrades fall asleep. 

And when at dawn of rosy morn, 

The birds sing reveille. 
Let every Regent don his crown 

Of white supremacy. 

Let noble deeds of comrades true 

A shield unto us be, 
And true to our just cause and God, 

We '11 rule the land and sea. 




266 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

RETROSPECTION- 

(Read at Memorial Exercises, April 26, 1902.) 

With Ides of March the winter's gone, 

Her snowy robes she 's put away, 
The April sun resplendent shines 

And warms the earth with genial ray. 
The soft south winds from southern seas 

Sigh with their loads of sweet perfume, 
Whilst vale and cove and hill and dale 

Are wrapped in robes of gorgeous bloom. 

All nature seems in smihng mood. 

And everywhere in copse and grove, 
The merry thrush and mocking bird. 

Are caroling their songs of love. 
No glint of grief or gloom appears 

Beneath the bright cerulean sky, 
And yet within this heart of mine 

I can 't repress a rising sigh. 

For flowers bright and songs of birds. 

The breath of spring with sweet perfume 
Recall to mind that April day 

When years ago the cannon's boom 
Rang wildly out in Charleston bay. 

And round the earth a shudder sent. 
For all who heard that ominous gun 

Knew but too well just what it meant. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 267 

All knew it meant that bonds were rent, 

Which long had bound our Union strong, 
That ties of friendship, kinship, love, 

Were severed then, and all the wrong 
That comes with war, grim visaged war, 

Must needs be borne, since right of might 
Thenceforth must rule, and reason just 

Give way to passion, hate and spite. 

Even now in retrospective view. 

The supervening years but seem. 
With all their turmoil, loss and strife 

A fevered brain's distempered dream — 
I see invading armies come 

With sword and torch and hearts of hate. 
I see our towns and cities burned, 

Our happy homes made desolate. 

I see with grief on field and plain, 

Contending hosts in deadly fray ; 
I mark the wreck and carnage dire. 

The terror and the dread dismay 
Of helpless children, mothers, wives, 

Outcasts, all homeless, hungry, sad. 
Poor, footsore, wandering refugees 

From ruthless men by war made mad. 

Our women then, God bless their souls, 

Like Spartan mothers, every one. 
Bade fathers, brothers, husbands, go — 

Even sons who scarce could shoulder gun — 



268 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN PIKROES 

Yea, bade them by their honor go ; 

Encouraged all to go and fight, 
And fighting win or fighting die, 

For God, for country and the right. 

And then I see their soft white hands, 

Unused before to work and toil, 
All calloused now by cotton cards 

And menial labors, that despoil 
Their softness, as the spinning wheel 

And noisy, homely, old-time loom. 
For which they 'd put guitars aside, 

Pianos, too, to give them room. 

From spinning, weaving, making cloth 

To clothe their loved ones in the field, 
I mark their cheeks grow wan and pale. 

See griefs that cannot be concealed. 
Yes, see them stifling back the tear 

And smiling at privations long ; 
Returning grim starvation's stare 

With fortitude and courage strong. 

I see them wending through the camp. 

Ministering to maimed and sick; 
Bathing and binding bloody wounds, 

Then hastening on with footsteps quick 
To kneel beside the dying cot 

Where some poor soul is ebbing 'way. 
And there in accents sweet and low 

To aid that dying soul to pray. 



AND OTHKR POEMS. 269 

Oh, would to God I yet could wake, 

And waking, find 'twere all a dream ; 
That all the memories of those days 

Were not as real as yet they seem ; 
That never women such as they — 

So fair, so pure, so free from stain, — 
Should e'er be forced by cruel war 

To bear such trials, grief and pain. 

But, after all, God knows what 's right, 

And suffers all things for the best ; 
Such memories serve to whet the love 

And feed the flames within the breast 
And suffers not the heart to chill. 

But lights the soul, illumes the mind 
With brighter, brilliant, just esteem 

For all the world of woman-kind. 

Nor yet, please God, would I forget 

The faithfulness of dusky slave. 
Who steadfast stood in those dark days 

To shield, protect, to feed and save 
The loved ones of their Master's fold, 

And by their faithful service proved 
Throughout the four long years of war 

Their Constance and unselfish love. 

And be it known forever more 

Their Constance and devotion then 
Set condemnation on the tongues 

That slandered all slave-holding men. 



270 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKKOKS 

And be it known those faithful slaves 

By their steadfast fidelity, 
Won from the South its free guerdon 

And willing grant of liberty. 

Nor will the sons of Southern sires, 

So chivalrous, so true and brave, 
E'er cease to shield, advise and help 

The offspring of the old-time slave ; 
But granting them all credit due 

For what they are, or yet may be. 
Let not one shadow of regret 

E'er dim the fate that made them free. 

We took them wild, uncivilized — 

Taught them to labor and to think ; 
Placed in their hands the Book of Life, 

The fount of truth, that they might drink. 
We took them beasts, we made them men, 

But not co-equals with our race. 
God ne'er ordained or will'd that they 

Should reach that grand exalted place. 

Yet never higher compliment 

To Southern people has been paid 
Than by our Northern conquerors. 

Who by their own enactments said 
That those whilom black faithful slaves. 

Whom we had taught, and they made free, 
Were worthy of all civil rights, 

And with themselves equality. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 271 

But let that pass, be as it may, 

We '11 neither censure nor condemn ; 
But this will say, the negro knows 

Just where to seek and find a friend. 
Not in the East nor in the West, 

Nor in the North can he yet find 
Such generous help, such treatment fair, 

As here from Southern friends so kind. 

Nor will the great warm Southern heart 

Withhold its pardon full and free 
From all who may have been to blame 

For wrongs of inhumanity 
Done in those times of heated strife 

When men with passions overwrought 
Did crimes, which, if remembered still 

Are surely not with vengeful thought. 

To darkness of oblivion's tomb 

Let bitter memories all be cast. 
We '11 clasp the hand of former foes, 

Unheedful of the bitter past. 
That they were brave full well we know. 

And doubtless to convictions true — 
They shed their blood on fields of death — 

What more could any patriot do ? 

But whilst the cycling seasons roll. 
And time with earth shall still remain, 

The Stars and Bars, that fallen flag. 
So fair, so bright, so free from stain, 



272 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

Shall still survive on history's page, 

Where naught can dim its lustrous light, 

For God above — the God we love — 
Knows that its cause was just and right. 

Nor will the brave, chivalric men 

Whose hands upheld that banner bright. 
And wrote their names in deeds sublime 

On honor's everlasting height, 
Be e'er forgot or honored less 

While centuries shall speed their way, 
For earth shall never more behold 

Another band so grand as they. 

Tried by the most exacting rules 

To mortals known the soul to test 
They measured up to every height, 

And by the world they stand confessed 
The bravest, truest, noblest type 

Of daring knight and cavalier 
That ever struck for human rights 

Or died with such disdain of fear. 

Then, whilst on earth there yet survives 

A remnant of that glorious band. 
May God his guardian angels send 

To guide and lead them by the hand 
Past every danger, hardship, strife 

And safely pilot them the way, 
Through the shadowy vale of death 

To havens of eternal day. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 273 

Where foes will never more oppress, 

And hate and strife be never known'; 
Where all the just and brave of earth 

Shall meet around the great whitefthrone, 
And there in grand reunion sweet 

Clasp hands with comrades gone^before 
And join in everlasting songs 

Of praise to God forevermore. 



TO LIZZIE* 

Thy pretty face, 
Thy lovely grace, 

And all thy winsome charms, 
With cunning art 
Allures my heart. 

And all my hope alarms. 

Thy lovely smiles. 
Thy playful wiles, 

And thy coquettish airs. 
Entrance my eyes, 
Awake my sighs. 

And fill my breast with cares. 

Thy silvery voice. 

Thy words so choice. 
When ringing out in songs. 

Break on my ear. 

So sweetly, dear. 
My heart their joys prolongs. 
18 



274 A GALAXY OF SOUTHKRN HKROKS 

KICKERS. 

Some folks ar born fer kickin', 
An' seem tu kick fur fun ; 

Day '11 kick er man fer standin' still 
Den kick if he should run. 

Dey '11 kick at ebrything dat 's good, 
An' kick at what is bad ; 

Dey '11 kick er man fer havin' fun, 
Den kick if he gits mad. 

Dey kick in winter case its cold, 
In summer case its hot, 

Dey kick at things dey never knew. 
And kick at things forgot. 

Yer can allers find dese kickers 

At ebry place yer go, 
Yer '11 find dem in de meetin' house 

An' find dem at de show. 

Dey is sometimes in de pulpit. 
An' sometimes in de pew ; 

But yer '11 allers find em kickin' 
At ebrything yer do. 

Yer will find 'em 'bout de hotels. 
An' in de railroad trains ; 

But yer '11 never find er kicker 
Who*s overstock'd wid brains. 

An' yer '11 notice by obsarvin' 

A mighty sartin rule, 
Dat de loudest talkin' kicker 

Am de shabbiest little fool. 



AND OTHKR POEMS. 275 

An' you who 's fond ob smokin' 

May put dis in yer pipe, 
Dat er kicker am er greener 

Who 's seldom ober-ripe. 

Fer ebrything but kickin' 

And fer actin' ob de fool, 
An' is much more like er donkey 

Dan er hoss is like er mule. 

An' yer cannot help concludin', 

If yer watch dese kickers right, 
Dat dey 's er breed of donkeys 

Wid er gall dat 's out ob sight. 

An' yer '11 also find by watchin' 

Anuder rule ter fit, 
Dat kickers am too cowardly 

Ter face er man ob grit. 

An' now befo' concludin' 

Ob what Ise had ter say, 
I wants ter tell de critics 

Just ter bray an' kick er way 

At anything dey may dislike 

Ob what dese lines contains, 
Fer d-y wasn 't writ ter fertilize 

Dere unproductive brains. 

And I don 't care one fiddlestick 

For what all kickers say, 
I 've got my pay fer writing it, 

So let 'em kick and bray. 



276 A GAIvAXY OF SOUTHKRN HEROKS 

HAIL ST, PATRICK'S DAY 

Hail ! all hail, St. Patrick's day ! 

And hail to Erin's glory, 
A matchless land, of heroes grand, 

Who live in song and story. 
Oh, patron saint of wondrous land, 

Thy name shall be immortal, 
And light the way through endless day 

To Heaven's blessed portal. 

Oh, sainted man of wondrous mind. 

Filled with inspiration, 
By Heaven lent and Heaven sent. 

To civilize a nation. 
And where on earth is there a land 

To-day that does not claim 
On history's page some saint or sage — 

Some glorious Irish name ? 

And hail ! all hail ! to that green flag, 

Old Erin's sacred treasure ; 
A thousand years through strife and tears 

And bloodshed without measure, 
It floats to-day without a stain. 

An alien though it be, 
A tale to tell of freedom's knell, 

As doth the flag of Lee. 

Yes, hail ! all hail ! to Erin's flag, 

Exiled though now it be. 
In other climes and other times 

That flag shall yet be free. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 277 

And float as proudly to the breeze 

As when unfurled of yore, 
For Fates decree it shall be free 

And float for evermore ! 

Then hark ! oh, hark, ye Irish sons ! 

Behold your country bleeding, 
While saints above and sires you love 

With you her cause are pleading. 
And bid you, by the sacred ties 

Of all that 's dear on earth, 
To break in twain the tyrant's chain. 

And free your land of birth. 

Then grasp, oh, grasp the glorious flag 

That bears no blot of shame. 
And swear by love of God above 

And by St. Patrick's name. 
That you will ne'er forsake its cause 

Till it in triumph waves. 
That o'er the foam you *11 bear it home. 

Or bear it to your graves. 



NO COMPROMISE FOR ME- 

Talk not to me of compromise, 

I loathe, I hate the very word. 
It is the strongest arm of him 

By whom the fires of hell are stirred. 
Old Satan never smiles so bright. 

Nor darker gloam the frowning skies, 
Than when men split the right in twain 

And call that action *' compromise." 



278 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROES 

What, tho' my cause shall ne'er prevail 

I still can bravely bear defeat, 
A victor's crown I 'd scorn to wear 

If I must stoop that crown to greet. 
No, let me live and let me die 

In conscious practice of the right. 
My soul unsullied by my vote. 

No act of mine a home to blight. 

What e'er is right, must right remain, 

What e'er is wrong must still so be, 
No policy for sake of gain 

Can make the right with wrong agree. 
Then be your license high or low. 

Your whiskey dens are still the same, 
Like whited sepulchres without. 

Within there 's naught but death and shame. 

Tho' dastard dotards humbly bow, 

And bend the weak, the suppliant knee, 
Tho' coward cravens cry for peace. 

And talk to me of policy, 
I yield to nothing short of truth. 

No sort of compromise I take ; 
I dare to stand up for the right, 

Tho' cravens all the right forsake. 

And as for me and for my house, 

What ever lot the fates may plan. 
Unmoved, unchanged, unconquered still. 

With love for God and fellow-man. 
We stand resolved to never yield. 

Nor cease to work, nor cease to fight, 
'Till gloriously we 've won the field 

For God, for justice, and for right. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 279 

CUBAN ISLE, FAIR CUBAN ISLE** 

Air—" Maryland, My Maryland." 

The Spaniard's foot is on thy soil, 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle; 
Let not oppression longer spoil, 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle. 
We '11 right the wrong of gory stain 

That rests upon the gallant Maine, 
Our martyred dead died not in vain, 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle. 

For though we would not strike for gain, 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle, 
The starving shall not plead in vain, 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle. 
When Spaniard's meet us in the field, 

Our country's flag your rights will shield, 
And thou shalt not to tyrant's yield, 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle. 

No longer yield the tyrant's toll, 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle ; 
Thou shalt not bend to his control, 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle. 
America thy suff' ring sees. 

And in her might she now decrees 
Thy freedom. Queen of Antilles, 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle. 



* Written for and sungf by a young lady on the occasion of a grand 
public meeting- arranged for the purpose of arousing a patriotic enthu- 
siasm for Cuban freedom at the hands of sympathizing Americans. 



280 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

When thou shalt hear our cannon's roar, 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle, 
Thy suff'ring then will soon be o'er, 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle. 
Behold our ships are at thy door. 

To drive the tyrant from thy shore 
And grant thee freedom evermore, 

Cuban Isle, Fair Cuban Isle. 



THE DEATH OF ADMIRAL SEMMES 

Another gallant chieftain 

Of the grand heroic band, 
Who, in the cause of freedom. 

For our bless'd Southern land, 
Stemmed the tide of battle, 

And won a world's renown. 
Has doffed his earthly laurels 

For Heaven's brighter crown. 

My pen is too unworthy 

To eulogize his name, 
For ** earth's remotest nations" 

Are familiar with his fame. 
His grand heroic deeds 

Upon the rolling sea, 
Have made his name immortal 

As that of Robert Lee. 

And the waves of old Atlantic, 
As they break upon the shore, 

Will sing in loudest praises 
His name for evermore ; 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 281 

And the proud unfettered winds, 
As they sweep from pole to pole, 

Will chant in mournful dirges, 
A requiem to his soul. 

While his bright and faithful sword, 

That could but brook defeat. 
Will shine beneath the deep 

In its silent, safe retreat. 
And there 'twill rest forever. 

Without a blot or stain, 
The peerless gem of gems 

That decks old Ocean's main. 



THE GALLANT IMMUNES* 

(Inscribed to the men of the Fifth Regiment, United States Volunteer 
Infantry, when on their way to Cuba.) 

Out now upon the ocean wave 

Beneath the spreading sail, 
Speed on the gallant, noble braves, 

With hearts that never quail ; 
Enough to know their country calls 

And proudly they obey, 
Nor pestilence nor leaden balls 

Can daunt them nor dismay. 

True heroes, each with willing heart, 

A soldier's lot to share. 
For country's weal, to do his part. 

No matter when or where. 



282 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN H^ROKS 

If 'neath the burning tropic sun 
There lurks his country's foe, 

He questions not, nor seeks to shun 
When duty bids him go. 

Their country's flag they proudly bear 

To fields of victory new, 
And sternly swear to keep it there 

Whatever dangers brew ; 
Their nation's honor, theirs to keep, 

And they will guard it well. 
E'en tho' simoons around them sweep. 

Or surge the fiends of hell. 



THE GUITAR. 

I 'member way back long ago, 

'Fore de Yankees sot us free, 
A nigger wid an old banjo 

Was happy as could be ; 
But looking back to dem ole times, 

Way back befo' de war, 
I wonder how dem niggers did 

Widout a light guitar. 

Wid rattle bones and ole banjo 
Dey used to play and sing, 

And dance befo' de cabin do'. 
And cut de pigeon wing ; 



AND OTHER POEMS. 283 

But dem ole days am pass and gone, 

De banjo ain't nowhar; 
])e niggers now mus' put on airs 

And pick de light guitar. 

Dese am de hallelujah times, 

Our work am turned to play ; 
We ain't got nuffin' else to do 

But frolic night and day ; 
Our corn-field hands are turned to dudes, 

De wash- women ''ladies" are, 
De banjo it am laid aside, 

While we pick de light guitar. 

Each nigger in de barber shop. 

And ebery hotel coon 
Is trumming on de light guitar. 

And trying to play er tune ; 
But by and by dem kinkey heads 

Will be hustled on de kyars 
And bundled off to Mexico, 

Along wid dere guitars. 

For white folks now am gitten tired 

Ob sich hyfalutin' style, 
An' when dere patience gits threadbare 

Dere blood am gwine ter bile ; 
And if dem kinkey-headed coons 

Keeps on wid sich fool airs, 
Dey '11 land in h — 1 or Mexico, 

Erlong wid dere guitars. 



284 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

A PLEA TO MAYOR LANE* 

(For the removal of a hand-organ nuisance). 

Please, Mister Lane, do hear my plea 

And grant alleviation, 
I 'm almost dead, my nerves unstrung. 

My soul 's in desperation ; 
I 've got the spancue and jimjams. 

My brain is worn to pieces 
By that infernal hurdy-gurdy 

Whose grinding never ceases. 

From early morn till late at night 

That cruel fiend's persistence 
In grinding doleful measures out, 

Makes life unworth existence. 
I cannot think, I cannot work, 

I scarce can get my breath ; 
Do dynamite the blasted thing 

Before it proves my death. 

Yes, Mister Mayor, heed my woe. 

And banish, by your orders. 
That curse-provoking, damned machine, 

Beyond earth's outer borders. 
Don 't let it drive me on to drink 

To drown my wild despair, 
But choke it off and smash its lungs ; 

Oh, hear and grant my prayer. 



AND OTHKR POEMS. 285 

LIFE, 

The dew which comes with stars of night 
To ghsten in the morning's hght, 
An hour sparkles on the grass, 
And then doth into vapor pass. 

The flowers which in the morning bloom 
And lade the air with sweet perfume, 
Live not to see the close of day, 
They lose their charms and pass away. 

The bright rainbow which spans the sky, 
Like an arch of gold on high, 
A moment lingers to our view 
And bids us then a slow adieu. 

The snow which falls with bounteous flake 
Upon the bosom of the lake, 
Quick disappears and leaves no trace 
Of its ephemeral resting place. 

And these are all mere types of life 
In this dark world of toil and strife : 
One day we 're born, the next we die, 
And then within the dust we He. 

But oh, how sweet to feel and know 
That death is but an end of woe ; 
For tho' we die upon this earth, 
Our souls will have a happier birth. 



286 A GALAXY OF SOUTHE]SN HEROES 

SOUTH ROMR* 

South Rome, superb, thy mountains grand, 
Around thee like great sentinels stand, 
To keep and shield thee from alarm, 
When storms arise and threaten harm ; 
And from their grand, majestic domes 
Look down on smiling, peaceful homes ; 
Whilst gushing fountains, pure and bright, 
Break from thy hills, and in the light 
Of sunbeams sparkling, ever sweet. 
Forever cool, doth lave thy feet 
And yield a glow to every cheek 
For those who come, sweet health to seek. 
But not alone thy lovely mountains. 
Crystal streams and sparkHng fountains ; 
These are not half the splendid charms 
Which thou claspest in thine arms ; 
But fairer far than Sharon's fields. 
And all the wealth Golconda yields ; 
More precious, too, than all the wine 
That e'er was brewed from luscious vine ; 
Yea, fairer far than India's pearls 
Thy greatest charm — thy pretty girls. 
God bless them, each and every one. 
No fairer dwell beneath the sun ; 
Then be thy boast thy daughters fair. 
Whose loveliness and beauty rare 
Beggars the power of pen to tell. 
Each one 's a queen — a reigning belle, 
A sweet enchantress be it said. 
Whose footsteps bless the land they tread. 

*Rome, Ga. 



AND OTHKR POKMS. 287 

JACK FROST. 

Old Jack Frost has come, his footprints are seen 
O'er broad grassy plains that were lately so green, 
And, kissed by his lips, his cold icy breath 
Has left on the forests the shadows of death ; 
And the few gentle flowers yet left us in bloom 
Are drooping like angels knelt over a tomb. 
But the ripe, golden fruit which summer has left 
Requites us for all of its beauties bereft ; 
And this but illustrates a fact that I 've seen. 
When loved ones have gone like the summer's bright 

green. 
To Heaven they may go, or to— just where you 

please. 
But the gold that they leave doth all sorrow appease. 

LOVE* 

AN ACROSTIC. 

Love, oh, thou heart-consuming flame, 
Inspired not by wealth or fame, 
Zest of every noble claim. 
Zealous in thy boundless aim, 
Inspiration taught thy name, 
Eternal gods thy wealth proclaim. 

Purest type from Heaven's mold. 
On maiden's lips thou art extolled, 
Wisdom too thy precepts fold. 
Evinced through life's endearing hold, 
Rejected not by young or old, 
Sure all thy strength was never told. 



288 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

MY LIFE IS LIKE A SHIP AT SEA. 

My life is like a ship at sea, 

That wrestles with the storm in vain, 

Which only mounts one rising swell 
To be cast down in gulfs again. 

My life is like a ship at sea, 

Which madly stems the driving blast, 
But far away from friendly port. 

Is doomed to fall and sink at last. 

My life is like a ship at sea. 

With compass lost and shivered mast ; 
Tossed here and there upon the waves, 

A wreck that tells of tempests past. 

My life is like a ship at sea, 

That soon will sink 'neath the wave, 

And, sinking, leave no sign or trace 
Of its eternal resting grave. 




AND OTHEJR POEJMS. 289 

GOOD-BYE SONG TO R L. S* 

Good-bye, good-bye, dear friend, good-bye, 
God's blessings on thee we implore, 

And speak with a sigh, our parting good-bye. 
As you leave to meet us no more. 

Our joys and cares with us you've shared 

Revealing a friendship sincere, 
And now as we part, the grief in each heart 

Is shown in a shimmering tear. 

Warm in our minds we'll ever keep 
Your memory, so precious and dear, 

And time cannot change or ever estrange 
The love you have won from us here. 

Henceforth, afar from us you go, 

Your duteous paths to pursue. 
But oft in our eyes bright tears will arise 

As we think of your sad ''Adieu." 

And now, good-bye, a last good-bye, 
Our hearts with sweet sympathy swell. 

Our spirits grow weak, our lips fail to speak — 
Dear friend and companion, farewell. 



19 



290 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES 

TIS THEN I THINK OF YOU* 

When mock-birds chant their matin lay, 

And eastern sky's roseate hue 
Proclaims the dawning of the day, 

'Tis then — 'tis then I think of you. 

And when at noontide's sultry hour 

The sky is one ethereal blue, 
And I have sought my shady bower, 

'Tis then — 'tis then I think of you. 

When night its starry robes reveal, 
And Heaven sheds its glist'ning dew ; 

When silence o'er the world doth steal ; 
'Tis then — 'tis then I think of you. 

And when in sleep I chance to dream. 

And dream there's naught to cheer my view, 

Then, waking, see the moon's bright beam, 
'Tis then — 'tis then I think of you. 

And thus my joy in life shall be, 

Whilst memory's chain holds firm and true ; 
Altho' thy face no more I see, 

To sweetly — sweetly think of you. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 291 

LINES TO ;• L. T. 

Oh, tell me not this lovely world 

Is all made up of vain deceit, 
That love is but a fickle charm. 

And friendship 's nothing but a cheat. 

Nor tell me, yet, that man was made 
For naught but labor and for strife ; 

That he 's deception in himself, 
And there 's no constancy in life. 

But rather tell me if you will 

That this strong body hath no soul, 

And that the God who made the world, 
Hath not, above it, all control. 

But speak not thus in idle jest, 
No words like these can I believe, 

Whilst I can boast one faithful friend 
Who 'd rather perish than deceive. 

A noble, generous friend is he 

With ready hand for every task ; 
For anything, at any time. 

To give, or do, what I may ask. 

No sordid craven heart he bears, 

But best impulses fill his breast ; 
And when I 've needed most a friend. 

He 's always stood the firmest test. 



292 A GAIyAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

He 's generous, too, to every fault, 
And brave as ever crested knight ; 

Disdaining all the world might say. 
Content to do what 's just and right. 

And modest as he 's good and brave. 
He seeks not vain and empty show : 

But scorns alike the flatterer's tongue 
And dangers of a skulking foe. 

Then tell me not that life 's a myth, 
That sincere friendship is unknown ; 

For one such friend as Johnnie is, 
To live for, is enough alone. 

THE MURDERED WIFE* 

(A poor woman, the mother of a young- babe, died in Rome just after 
the prohibition election, and her father testified that her death was thi 
result of a beating- at the hands of her drunken husband.) 

Behold, ye '' anti-prohi's," 

Your work is well begun ; 
A murdered mother's blood 

Now stains the cause you won. 

A helpless little infant, 

In piteous hunger cries. 
Whilst its mother's bloody form 

In yonder graveyard lies. 

'Twas a husband in his frenzy, 

By whiskey driven wild, 
Who struck that mother down — 

Made an orphan of his child. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 

On you my ** anti " friends, 
Who voted ''for the sale," 

Must rest the awful crime 
When justice shall prevail. 

For at the Bar of Judgment, 

When God shall call your name, 

You '11 not escape his vengeance, 
For to you belongs the blame. 

*Twas the sanction of your ballot 
That licensed men to sell. 

And the selling brought about 
That bloody deed of hell. 

And that poor murdered mother, 
At the bar beyond the sky. 

Will be a witness 'gainst you 
When you are called to die. 



293 




294 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROES 

A HORRID DREAM.* 

My precious babe, my darling boy, 
Thy father's heart still true to thee, 

Vibrates to-night without a joy. 
Because thy face I do not see. 

A sadness dwells within my breast, 
A sense of gloom I can 't dispel. 

An ominous dream that broke my rest 
Forbodes to me thou art not well. 

I saw within my vision wild 

A raging stream with foaming crest. 

And saw thy form, my lovely child. 
Swept far away upon its breast. 

And as I watched thy little arms 
Held outstretched to me for aid — 

My heart grew faint with dread alarms, 
And paralyzed I stood dismayed. 

But when I saw thy body sink 
Without a hand thy life to save, 

My strength returned and o'er the brink 
I leapt into the rushing wave. 



*While away from home when my first son was an infant I had my 
sleep broken by the foregoing ugly dream, and not being able to sleep, 
arose and wrote these lines, which the little chap has kept until now, 
and insists that the lines .which he calls "his poem " be included as 
part of his book. 



AND OTHER POKMS. 295 

With giant strength I dashed aside 

The rising billows in my course 
And mounting every swelling tide, 

I plied my strokes with double force 

Until I reached the fatal spot 

At which I saw thee disappear. 
Heedless of what might be my lot 

Without a thought of selfish fear, 

I plunged myself beneath the wave 
Where last I heard thy feeble cry, 

Resolved thy precious life to save, 
Or with thee in the waters die. 

Down, down, I sank within the deep. 

Until I reached the rocks below 
O'er which the waters seemed to sweep 

And searching round me to and fro, 

Thy little form at last I found ; 

Then clutching thee unto my breast, 
I sprang up with triumphant bound. 

And poising on the foaming crest, 

I held thee in my arms upright 

To see if there were signs of breath. 

But, oh ! ril ne'er forget the sight : 

Thy eyes were seeming closed in death. 

And none but God will ever know 

The anguish of that fitful dream. 
When grief unveiled my sight to woe 

Within that visionary stream. 



296 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

BOOMING BIRMINGHAM. 

(Written during the panic of 1893.) 

Now don't it beat the Juba to hear them croakers 

croak. 
They seem to think because er bank has happened 

tu git broke 
That the day of judgment's cum with all its awful 

gloom, 
And that Birmingham and all the world is heading 

for the tomb ; 
But I wants to tell 'em now, that in spite of all they 

say, 
That Birmingham is solid, and they 'd better clear 

the way. 

The time is near approaching when things is gwine 

ter hum, 
And we '11 hear a buzz of business like bees within a 

gum; 
An' every cussed croaker who wants tu save his hide 
Will have ter git er hustle on or kinder stand erside. 
For I feel it in my bones and I breathe it in the air, 
The clouds are gettin' lighter and the skies are gettin' 

fair, 
The threatened storm is over, and things are gettin' 

bright, 
And Birmingham is jest the town that 's bound to 

come out right. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 297 

For she 's built upon a basis of the Giberalter kind, 
And she 's gwine ter keep er goin' like er ship before 

the wind ; 
No busted bank can check her, nor nothing else can 

kill, 
Tho' she 's been a little crippled by that infernal bill 
That keeps our honest merchants from collectin' of 

their debts, 
And hobbles every workman in the commissary's 

nets. 
It was made to aid the shylocks, and was helped 

erlong by fools, 
And was made intu er law by the corporation's tools. 

But, Birmingham will get thar ; she 's er gettin' up 

her steam. 
Her nozzle's pinted upward on fortune's flowing 

stream, 
She 's bound tu make her landing, and all who git 

aboard 
Will have a glorious passage and will reap a rich 

reward. 
And there 's not a cussed croaker from Maine to 

Yubadam 
Who will live to see the sinking of our booming 

Birmingham. 



298 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS 

THE YANKEES ARE COMING. 

Coming, coming ! the Yankees are coming 
Down from the North, so cold and benumbing, 
Coming by steamer, coming by sail. 
Coming by river, coming by rail, 

No foes now to face them. 

No forts to menace them, 
But friends who are ready to meet and embrace them. 

From the land of Jack Frost, where the snow king 

reigns. 
Obstructing all thrift with his cold, icy chains, 
Where the lights of Aurora shed a luminous glow 
And the steps of all progress are fettered by snow. 

To the land of the pines. 

Where the warm sun shines, 
And the cotton blooms vie with the bloom of the vines. 

Once, when the Yankees came marching this way, 
They met serried hosts in battle array. 
Who fought them as only true patriots fight 
When battling for home, for country and right, 

But, beaten by numbers 

Or cold in death's slumbers, 
No longer a foeman their pathway encumbers. 

No hearts now opposed to the oncoming tide. 
No sword is upheld to turn them aside ; 
No cannon's loud roar, no trumpet's wild blast — 
All issues of hate are buried and past — 

No jealousy's pall. 

No embittering gall — 
For the flag of our fathers floats over us all. 



AND OTHER POEMS. 299 

Onward! yes, onward the Yankees now come, 
Bearing no banners, beating no drum. 
No heart is opposed to the oncoming tide. 
No sword is uplifted to turn them aside. 

For they come with their skill, 

Our country to thrill 
With the musical hum of the factory and mill. 



LINES WRITTEN ON THE FLY-LEAF OF A 

BOOK* 



PRESENTED TO I^IZZIE P- 



To her whose curls of ebon hue. 

Droop o'er shoulders white as snow, 

And from whose eyes, like morning dew 
Light's brightest scintillations glow. 

Whose lovely cheeks are soft and fair 
As ever claimed a poet's thought ; 

Whose mind is free from every care, 
Whose soul's with every virtue fraught. 

Whose lovely lips, divinely sweet. 

Are worthy of an angel's kiss, 
And in whose heart such virtues meet 

As fit her for Heaven's courts of bliss. 

Whose form of grace outvies the swan, 
That swims upon the glassy stream, 

And whose sweet thoughts from dawn to dawn 
Are bright and pure as angel's dream. 



300 A GAI^AXY OF SOUTHERN HKROKS 

MY NATIVE LAND* 
I truly love my fellow men, 

My country and my country's flag, 
I love her every glade and glen, 

Her every cliff and mountain crag ; 
I love her mountains grand and steep, 

Her ev'ry hill and ev'ry plain, 
I love her lakes and rivers deep. 

Her forests and her fields of grain, 
I love her history and rejoice 

When e'er Old Glory's folds I see, 
Of all the world give me my choice, 

America land of the free. 

What mortal born of any land. 

Has ever breathed of freedom's air 
And has not felt his soul expand 

With rapture for this country fair ? 
Where ev'ry man wherever born, 

Who on its soil his foot once sets 
May lift his head and proudly scorn 

All kingly crowns and coronets. 
And truly feel that wondrous pride 

Which comes of conscious moral worth, 
Where rank and caste are set aside 

And virtue counts for more than birth. 

Let others roam if so inclined. 
And seek beyond the ocean wide 

For such attractions there to find 
As may in foreign lands abide ; 

Let them go view Mount Hercules, 
Old ^tna and Choomalari; 



AND oth:^r pokms. 301 

Go view the Alps and Pyrenees, 

And climb Mount Everest to the sky, 

I envy not those vistas grand. 

With all their charms the heart to fill 

Just give to me my native land — 

Her charms alone my heart can thrill. 

Nor envy I nor yet condemn 

Those *' birds of passage " rich and gay, 
Who o'er the ocean love to skim 

In search of pleasures far away. 
I bid them speed and find content. 

No matter what their pleasures be, 
But as for me it's my intent 

To stay within this country free. 
Old England,* Germany and France, 

Greece, Switzerland and ancient Rome, 
May have their lurements to entrance, 

But give to me my native home. 

My ears are closed when others prate 

Of royalty and regal birth, 
For in my heart I loathe and hate 

All caste and regal claims on earth. 
Free-born in this great country free 

Beneath Old Glory's spreading folds, 
I would not bow or bend the knee 

To all the kings which Europe holds. 
More independent, regal, I 

Than any king who treads the sod — 
A free-born heir of liberty, 

I bow to none except my God. 



302 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HKROES 

Then give to me my native land, 

For lands afar I do not sigh, 
Of all the world the best and grand 

Is here beneath my native sky. 
Our men the bravest of the brave, 

Our women fairest of the fair, 
Our flag of all the flags that wave. 

The grandest is beyond compare. 
Then here 's to thee, my native land, 

Long may thy flag triumphant fly, 
Beneath its folds, so glorious, grand. 

Here let me live, here let me die. 




AND OTHER POEMS. 303 

DRIFTING AWAY. 

Drifting, drifting every day, 
Down life's current, drifting away ; 
Kings and slaves — the grave and gay, 
All on board are drifting away. 

Both saints and sinners all the same, 
The men unknown, and men of fame ; 
All the cowards, and all the brave, 
Are drifting onward to the grave. 

Nor love nor wealth their course can stay, 
Not even a year, nor yet a day; 
While some drift fast, drift others slow, 
But drifting onward all must go. 

Youth and beauty cannot avail, 
Nor earthly powers can aught prevail; 
No priestly prayers, nor precious gift 
Can stay the tide on which we drift. 

Hear that poor mother how she pleads, 
With broken, wounded heart that bleeds, 
For little loved one gone to rest 
From its weak mooring at her breast. 

And hear the father's anguish wild. 
In mourning for that precious child ; 
But father's grief nor mother's pain 
Can call their loved one back again. 



)04 A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROS 

Mark yon pale cheek with hectic flush, 
Where passion once was wont to blush, 
And all love's fervency portray, 
Now soon in death to drift away. 

What tho' her lover's heart should break, 
What tho' he 'd die for her dear sake ; 
His breaking heart no anchor proves, 
To stay the tide on which she moves. 

The young, the old, the high, the low. 
All drifting down this stream must go ; 
'Neath spreading sails of deathly pall 
This voyage must be made by all. 

The sea to which we thither trend, 
With every foe and every friend. 
Is that dark, shoreless, boundless sea. 
The dark, unknown eternity ! 




DEC tl 



